‘Balloonacy’: The story behind a Charlotte family’s 86 holiday lawn inflatables
It was the night of the winter solstice and 5-year-old Whit Downing was face-to-face with Frosty the Snowman in front of a southeast Charlotte yard. His eyes were fixed on the inflatable lawn character, but it wasn’t his favorite in the lot. Or was it?
He couldn’t decide. There were too many to choose from — 86 in total. Some were smaller than Downing, others were 20 feet tall and towering above the house that sat across from Midwood Park on Wilhelmina Avenue in Plaza Midwood.
Downing ran from one side of the yard to the other trying to survey as many as he could. Baby Yoda and Black Panther were holding candy canes. There was Snoopy and Buddy the Elfs (yes, more than one).
“We actually live in Matthews,” Whit’s mother, Sara Downing said. “So we drove over to see this.”
The Downings were one of a few dozen families that stopped by the house Monday evening to check out the spectacle of all the inflatable decorations.
There was a steady flow of picture takers again on Tuesday night. One man who lived in the neighborhood and watched the collection grow each year had a name for it: “I call it Balloonacy,” he said.
The homeowner, Molly Carroll, laughed when she heard that. She said she knows it’s a little much.
“I used to get really stressed because I would think that people were going to get (upset) or think, ‘That’s so wasteful’ or ‘So tacky,’ ” Carroll said. “And then I realized that I was completely overthinking it and that everyone is just so excited to see how ridiculous it is.”
Competitive Carrolls
The Carrolls are known by strangers as “that crazy inflatable family,” she said.
They have a hashtag on Instagram called #christmascarrolls for people posting pictures of their yard, which has been featured in some local media coverage. But this year, Carroll said the turnout and the number of inflatables is greater than ever, with around 40 people typically stopping by the house on weekend nights.
“I don’t think anyone ever expected it to get like this,” Carroll said. “Like people were teasing us when we had 12 (inflatables). And then the extension cords got out of control. It kind of felt like gremlins. Like someone just threw water on them and all of a sudden, they multiplied.”
The tradition started 10 to 12 years ago when her husband, Troy, and other dads in the neighborhood were “smack talking” about who would have the best holiday decorations that year. Some neighbors put up light displays.
They went with inflatables, setting up five or six at the time, but Carroll said her husband is competitive.
“Everyone else gave up. We kept going obviously,” Carroll said. “He came home that year with red duct tape because he wanted to make the house a candy cane. I had to put my foot down.”
Carroll said she also halted her husband’s attempts to let an electrician install an outlet on the roof. If there’s any line to be drawn at this point, Carroll said, it’s inflatables on the roof.
Her husband’s ambition turned into tradition for the family. They now stock up on new characters each year at Garden Ridge (renamed At Home) or Lowe’s on Dec. 26, when sales and supplies are best. The family usually comes home with 11 to 15 over the course of a year, but some “do die,” meaning deflate, so they net less.
Friends have contributed other characters, which all get stored in giant IKEA bags in their garage when not on display.
A Covid-19 unicorn
Setting them up is also a family affair that happens every Friday after Thanksgiving and includes the couple’s two teenage daughters, Kate, 19, and Emma, 16, and a few other extended family members. Setup can take up to seven hours.
They’ve made some modifications over the years. For example, there are now signs in the yard among the inflatables that read, “For your safety do not touch the inflatables or walk/run through the display. It’s like the Matrix with tethers and stakes everywhere!”
Those went up one year after a rowdy, and “probably drunk” bachelorette party came by the house late one night, Carroll said.
Those safety signs seem even more imperative with the increased foot traffic this year. Carroll said she thinks the turnout is partially a product of the pandemic. The Downings agreed that it’s nice that they don’t have to compromise seeing their usual outdoor holiday sights this year.
With the Carroll’s house directly across from the Midwood Park lot, there is plenty of space for visitors to walk or drive by without getting too close to one another. Some come in masks, others don’t.
“I heard from lots of folks that are like, ‘We just had to get out,’ ” Carroll said. “Folks are just doing that in general, finding those maps, and then just driving all over the city to check things out.”
Another typical element of the display is a sign encouraging people to donate to the Alzheimer’s Association in honor of a family member who passed away from the disease. The Carrolls used to match donations, although they were difficult to track. This year, the family just decided to “donate quietly.”
What has been added this year, however, was what the family called a “COVID unicorn” that went up when the pandemic hit. Normally the inflatables are a holiday thing, but Carroll said she just “figured we need a little bit of magic in this crazy COVID time.”
“So I got to sit in my office and look out the window as all the kids came by and took pictures with the unicorn,” Carroll said. “It was very sweet.”
The Downings paused when asked if they would consider setting up inflatables like this at their home.
Sara and her husband, Ben, said they’ll probably just keep visiting holiday spectacles instead of creating them. Carroll said that’s the point.
“I think most people are really happy that we’re doing it so they don’t,” Carroll said. “Their kids are like, ‘Can we have one?’ And they’re like, ‘No, no, no we’ll just walk by the Carroll’s house... We do this so you don’t have to!”
She said the decorations will likely stay up until New Year’s Day, unless the weather prevents that.
It seemed like it would take Whit that long to decide his favorite inflatable, until after minutes of pacing and jumping and looking, it hit him — a more traditional character of the 86 partying together on Wilhelmina Avenue.
“...Rudolph!” he said. Finally, they could go home.
This story was originally published December 23, 2020 at 1:45 PM.
