Balloon-ed

It started out as any other Sunday morning.
People rousing.
Breakfast.
Getting ready for church.
Well, one member of the family was doing those things. The other two members were playing . . .
Dad had a balloon. A large, red one. He was blowing it up, then releasing it AT his six-year-old daughter (Hereinafter known as 6YO).
Much scrambling and giggling ensued.
And a lot of shrieking.
Finally, 6YO dashed into the bathroom where her mother was doing her hair.
Slamming the door in her father's--and incidentally, the balloon's--face, she locked it quickly and leaned against it with a sigh of relief.
Okay, yes, I've only heard the story, but this is how I picture it.
Moving on . . .
"He can't get me now!" she said. She waited there for some sign that her father had given up.
She didn't have to wait long.
And, FYI? He hadn't given up.
The balloon appeared under the door, slowly emerging further and further into the room.
At first, the two locked in the bathroom just stared at it. Because it was limp. Nonthreatening.
Un-dangerous.
Yeah. Not.
The balloon suddenly started inflating.
And the shrieking started again.
This time, when the balloon was released, there was no escaping it.
Note: Never underestimate the ingenuity and resourcefulness of a dad.
On a Sunday morning.
With his six-year-old.
And a balloon.
Game and set.