My Love Hate Relationship with Bubbles

Bubbles! Who doesn’t shout the name when they suddenly see those soapy globes floating by? Chasing bubbles is (or should be) a part of every childhood. Then you get a little older and your role changes from bubble chaser to bubble blower.


You may think of bubbles as “good clean fun” but anyone with a small child knows bubbles means “big sticky soapy mess.” I stopped getting bubbles for a while because my son insisted on trying to blow them himself, which meant he would get soap all over his hands, arms, face and then it would inevitably end up getting spilled all over the child and the floor. Every time I bought bubbles, a little voice in my head said “Hey let’s just save some time and dump this on the ground right now.”

And yes, I know there are bubble machines that will blow these for us. We’ve gone through several already. But my son isn’t entertained by automated bubbles for very long. Sometimes it seems to overwhelm him a bit. It’s as if he more enjoys the challenge of just a few bubbles at a time.


So he’s finally gotten to where we takes turns. He manages to get a few bubbles out on his own, and then hands it over to me. I try to pretend I’m doing deep breathing meditation as I blow bubble after bubble. Deep breath in, bubbles out. Ignore the soapy dribbles going on the ground and just be in the moment. The mess will wash away. The memory of my son chasing bubbles, laughing and smiling will stay forever. ♥

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