*Finally*, Zane says, they gave me a balloon! Wheeeee…. (now what?)
Every time Zane and I go into a store, and I mean EVERY TIME, he immediately starts scanning the ceiling for balloons. When he finds one, even things that kind of sort of look like balloons, he starts squealing and babbling and pointing. Loud squeal. The kind of squeal that momentarily halts pacemakers and removes another dB from his Dad’s rapidly diminishing hearing.
We hang out in the balloon section for a while, letting him explore the shapes and colors, with a new squeal for each. And yet we’ve never bought one. Until last night.
They had a whole bunch of mylar balloons filled and floating in a ceiling cage, each and every one of them a Happy Birthday balloon. Happy Birthday grandma and grandpa with embedded audio players even. There was also a rotating rack of un-inflated balloons for sale with 99.4% dedicated to some form of birthday.
Now, I know Zane can’t read and you know Zane can’t read, but I just couldn’t bring myself to buy a birthday balloon. So we settled on the all inclusive best wishes balloon. Got a new mosquito bite? Best Wishes. Bonked your head learning to walk? Best Wishes. Had a lovely dinner of ravioli, broccoli and hot dogs? Best Wishes. First Molar making you a bit fussy? Best Wishes!
It works for everything. See… he’s ebullient!