This afternoon Gavin's balloon flew out of the van. His eyes filled with tears as he watched it fly up higher into the grey clouds. Soon he was sobbing uncontrollably, scolding me for opening the van door with my key chain instead of my hands. It was my fault. I needed to retrieve his balloon....pronto.
This is just a life lesson, "no attachment," right? But to my 3 year old this is serious business.
this picture is G last year...but you get the general idea of how much trouble I was in
After forcing him in the van.....I had no time to console the poor kid, I was already late picking up Zander from the bus stop....he proceeded to lecture me about his balloon, which he apparently developed deep feelings for in the past 24 hours. I apologized and told him it was an accident and that there would be other balloons.
"Mom. I loved that balloon," he choked out between tears.
"I said I was sorry Gavin. What do you want me to do?" I asked him.
"A plane or a helicopter."
"Buddy, we're out of luck. I don't have one of those."
"Call someone that does. I know! Call the airport! They have lots of airplanes!"
"I don't have their number, and besides, they are to busy to catch your balloon."
"Fine. If you won't call them take me to the airport...I'll talk to a pilot."
Alas....my disappointed child....he is now upstairs staring at the string that his beloved balloon was once attached to.