pop, drip

Yesterday at the grocery store, Alice received a balloon – for  loudest, most inexplicable hollering in the produce aisle. Or for most spirited attempt to climb out of a shopping cart.

One of those, I guess. I don’t know.

In the middle of this baffling tantrum, a girl from floral jogged over with a balloon in her hand and a question mark on her face.

“Oh, thank you!”

 I was doubtful, but hoped I sounded grateful enough for the both of us.

I tied it to the cart, and I was touched by her good will. Not everyone reacts with a balloon when a child is throwing dried fruit bits.

Alice was not so impressed with the balloon while we were at the grocery store.

In fact, when we were finally done and all the bags were packed up, I thought about just letting it go in the parking lot. But I had environment-related misgivings. Also it seemed kind of mean.

Then, when she woke up this morning, in mismatched jammies, it was all she wanted to play with.

It went on top of her head like a hat, and then under her head like a pillow. She gave it kisses.

So these times are good times. When a listless balloon is a whole morning’s happiness.

It’s going to pop.

I know.

It’s going to scare her.

It might hurt her.

But what can we do?

This afternoon we walked, instead of drove, home from day care. A little past the halfway point, we stopped for ice cream.

I don’t think there’s very much I could have done to make her any happier.