The life of a bubble.

Randy gathered all the breath his 2 year old lungs could hold. He raised the bubble wand to his mouth and blew.

"Look it!" He announced to the world as his parents watched appreciatively.

The bubble was larger than average. A gentle breeze stole it and blew it into the sunlight where it glimmered in iridescent, oily looking, shades of violet, blue, pink and green. It was a one-of-a-kind bubble.

Randy toddled after his masterpiece gleefully. First it slid across the lawn, then bobbed through the swing set, where it almost sat on a swing, but decided against it, then up and up, for a close call with a rose bush, and down to graze a picnic table.

Randy tried to catch it but each time it sailed just out of reach. Randy stomped his foot, and wrinkled his face. "Randy want it! Mine!"

"Here, son, you can make another one," his father dipped the wand into the soapy water. "There's plenty more where that came from."

Randy ignored his father, and, tripping and anxious, ran after the bubble.

"GIVE ME...MY 'EAUTIFUL 'UBBLE......MAX!" His parents were perplexed: Max? It was the name of their neighbor's bulldog.

Slowly, Max circled, sank, and floated, "Come, my 'eautiful 'ubble. Randy pleaded before the bubble hovered in one spot, as though debating it's next move, to burst impressively on a lamp post.

Nothing remained, but a few water droplets that evaporated in the hot July afternoon.

"Aww. We're so sorry. Max was so good: a wonderful creation." His parents looked at each other helplessly. They comforted their weeping child, hoping he would not forget his first brief lesson with the transitory nature of life.