When I was ten years old, I had a Superball collection, about thirty different ones which I kept in a plastic bucket. (I think they were called hi-bounce balls or rubber bouncers in other parts of the country.) They ranged in size from tiny marble-sized ones to giant tennis-ball types. I had all colors of the rainbow–yellow, pink, blue, swirly rainbow and everything.

Our upstairs bathroom had a tile floor and mostly-tile walls. The sink and
toilet and counter were some plain white material (I don’t know exactly what).
There was a bathtub, but no showerhead or shower attached. My mom, being a
practical person, didn’t have any decoration beyond the painted flowers
on the upper wall and a pair of blue bathmats.

I had a favorite game I liked to play in the bathtub. I had to wait until my
parents were elsewhere in the house, or weren’t home. First, I closed the toilet lid and the medicine cabinet if it was open. Then I’d run a nice hot bath. I’d get my Superball collection out of my room, and I’d get in the tub.

FLING! One by one, I’d throw them against the wall. Superballs scatter everywhere!

Now, a Superball in motion, in a tiny tile-covered room, tends to stay in motion. The goal was to get all 30 balls bouncing at the same time. This was much harder than it sounded, because my enemies were the bathmats and the towels and the corner behind the toilet. But it was so much fun. And if you can imagine 30 rainbow blurs, winging everywhere around this room–floor, wall, ceiling, and sometimes against my head–it’s quite a sight to see.

It looked a little like this, except less planned and much more dangerous.

In retrospect, I’m lucky I didn’t break anything or hurt myself.