On a recent trip to Harris Teeter I let Elly choose a balloon as we were leaving. She was a great little shopper and had earned it! There were SO many to choose from, I’ve never seen this kind of selection! She picked out a bright green balloon which I secured to the cart as we headed outside on the windy day.
While I was loading Elly into the car I told her I’d buckle her in first then get the balloon. She started saying balloon as I was strapping her in and I turned to see her balloon slowly becoming a green dot amongst the blue sky.
I apologized profusely and tried to keep Elly’s spirits up, aka avoid a total meltdown, by happily saying that the balloon was flying with the birds (I left out the part where innocent sea life might be negatively affected by the escape of our balloon). Elly surprisingly didn’t shed a tear over the lost balloon but did keep talking about what had happened on the drive home. I assumed she’d forget about the little incident by the end of the day.
“Balloon, fly, birds, mommy did it, I sorry”. That is more or less how Elly tells the story of what happened to her balloon…every single day, sometimes multiple times a day, since the incident happened, over a week ago.
I am a little worried that in 20 years time as she’s talking to her therapist (yes, she goes to therapy, she’s got to have someone to talk to about how uncool her parents are) she’ll recall this incident. It looks like at 20 months into this 18 plus year journey, the scarring has begun! Sorry Elly!