Balloon

Today I am sharing a fb post from a friend and kickass mother of twins - stinky eye and shorty. It grabbed my heart when I read it as a moment of raw motherhood. I hope you love it too.




Balloon, balloon, balloon…

Dear Sweet, kind-hearted Costco cart-loader,

Had you asked “Can he have a balloon?” Sadly, I would have had to say “No.”


There really is no way you could have imagined the depths of his balloon obsession.

Or pictured the bed-time drama that would result from my refusal to let him sleep with a strangling-hazard.

And tomorrow, when he wakes up and finds it devoid of all of it’s helium-magic, I will fight the same fight as I try to get him to leave the balloon with me when he goes into school.

Then, when he comes home from school and I explain that the balloon is “all gone,” you will miss the high-pitched repetition of “balloon, balloon, balloon…” that I will enjoy throughout the coming month.

When his drawings come home from school…the ones where he asks his teachers to write “balloon” by his name…I will think of you.
And I will try to forgive you.  Because there really is no way you could have known.