A little boy, maybe three years old, sat in his stroller with a bubble gun in his hand. He held the trigger and a continuous stream of small soap bubble floated out of the end and across the walkway. Some of them caught a light updraft and drifted higher; others clung to the ground and wrapped around people's feet. That boy filled the roadway with a thin curtain of bubbles while we finished our warm-up to food-on-a-stick. And really, a gyro is food-on-a-stick in spirit if not in fact.
Anyway, that boy kept his finger on the trigger and stared with mild interest and his soapy projectiles as people smiled and walked through this 4 feet of wonderland. They boy's face had that odd combination that said he was both fascinated and bored to tears at the same time.
But he didn't seem frustrated. And why is that?
It's because of people like this.
These people sell all manner of bubble wands, bubble guns, bubble flowers, and bubble accessories. Kids can effortless make the fair a wonderland.
What a ripoff.
Back in my day we had little plastic jars to make do with. Blowing bubbles isn't supposed to be a relaxing, magical experience. It's supposed to be frustrating. It's supposed to be struggle to get that bubble blown.
The short double ended wand is supposed to hurt your fingers when you hook it. You're supposed to spill soapy water on your shirt and struggle to make sure you get the right color bottle.
You're supposed to blow too hard and too light. You're supposed to fuss over just the right about of air, and how hard you blow through that sudsy ring. And that's if you're lucky enough to get just the right amount of soap on that tiny wand that is now threatening to remove all remaining circulation from your fingertip.
You're supposed to fight for every bubble and then finally get that perfect one only to have someone pop it right in front of you.
Then you try again.
It's an early childhood lesson for life. Bubbles are supposed to be hard, stressful, frustrating and painful.