Another Brief Digression from Politics

I think it is a truism that all children must, at some point, come to great (but shallow) trauma over a balloon. It is basically guarantee, as they will either pop, fly away, or wilt by morning.

I remember distinctly getting a balloon at a pizza parlor when I was around five years of age and coming home with it, and then accidentally letting go of it and watching it fly way, way, away. It is one of those childhood memories that you can replay in your head with remarkable clarity. Similarly I recall the time last summer when one of the kids' balloon hit the hot van, popped, and to quell the tearful distress that ensued, I had to go back into the restaurant and get another balloon.

This comes up because we went out for dinner tonight and the waiter brought the kids balloons. I knew that the six and three year-olds would enjoy them, and figure the one year-old would too, as he really likes balls. But I had no idea how much that child was going to enjoy that balloon. He kept chattering about it and playing with it.

Then we got home, and it flew into the light in the kitchen and popped. He never quite got the concept, despite my attempts at "balloon went bye-bye." He kept looking for the darn thing and went to bed crying over the balloon, although, thankfully he calmed down pretty quickly.

The joy-agony cycle of balloons is pretty remarkable, which of course is linked to that sweet, although sometimes difficult, joy-agony capacity of little ones.

Posted by Steven Taylor at March 18, 2026 09:10 PM | TrackBack