Smithereens

The kids built an airship, rigging bicycles and peach-crates to a massive solar-heated airbag with a lightweight steering and ballast system.
After a few test flights and an inspection by the county engineer, I gave them permission to take it to school.
“Check the forecast,” I said. “If there’s any chance of rain, you’re taking the bus or walking.”
They used to ride their bikes, but those were now a part of the airship.
Pedaling quickly, they rise into the air gracefully.
That’s when I see their bookbags still on the porch.
Little scamps!
I run for a dangling tether-rope.