My Buddy

The balloon he got yesterday, which had to be tied to his wrist to keep it from soaring up and up irretrievably into the sky, was considerably less buoyant this morning. "What's wrong with it?!" Ben asked me, all alarmed and disappointed while it hovered near his waistline, looking tired. Rejecting outright my explanations on helium and how the things that are filled with it tend to droop over time, Ben decided, rather, that his balloon had been "tamed" and was now loyally trailing him, like a dog shadowing its owner. And since that actually did appear to be the case, I let it go.

For most of the afternoon, Ben cooed at his new buddy in a soft and mellow voice much like mothers use with babies; how gentle and accommodating he was! I adore that he thought, just maybe, with a generous amount of affection, that day-old balloon could transcend its insensateness and love him back. I know what you're probably thinking - it's the homeschooling. I've isolated him from his peers and now he's forced to make balloon friends. What's next, you might be wondering? Matching plaid rompers for he and his siblings? Don't be silly, my sweet readers - I can't sew. I promise you, I'll do everything possible to keep my kids (and their balloons) socially healthy and well-adjusted - to help them fly with direction and purpose rather than float in ambiguity. I'll let them go (Oh Lord, have mercy!) when the time is right.