One of the many reasons I enjoy writing this blog is that it allows me time to think over the days events; to pick out the little things. It seem that those are the ones most worth writing about, worth remembering. The little things. Things that happen during the day that might easily go unnoticed. To an adult a little thing may be enjoying a cup of coffee or taking the time to watch some birds fly across the sky. To a child it might take the form of ant watching or an interesting crack in the sidewalk. Or a simple balloon.
What is little to one may not be so little to another. A couple of weeks ago, while having dinner out at a restaurant, what could have been a little thing made a big impression on my three-year old. During the meal I noticed that Carter kept glancing over his shoulder and finally he made a comment about a bunch of balloons tied to a railing by the register. He had seen a family leave and the kids each left with a balloon. He really wanted one. I had not even noticed them.
When it was time to go he asked if he could have one and was told he could. The boys each took their time picking which color they wanted, light blue for both, and the waitress tied the balloons on the their wrists. Carter was pretty excited, watching it float above him as we left the restaurant. He had that balloon for all of about thirty seconds before it slipped off his wrist and floated away. Oh, the tears! It was awful. Husband and I looked at each other both knowing that going back to get him another one not the right thing, but boy did we want to. He cried most of the way home. He exclaimed over and over “I miss my baa-wooon!” and his loss was compounded by Cody’s last surviving light blue balloon. In the grand scheme of things it was just a balloon; a little thing perhaps to you or I. To him it was huge. That night around 2:30 his crying woke me up. He was calling out about how much he missed his baa-woon. I went to check on him and he was fast asleep but still morning his loss.
Watching Carter react to the loss of his balloon is a good reminder to me that those things I may not even notice or just give a passing glance, can mean so much more to him. I always try to stop what I am doing when one of the boys call me over to look at a roly poly bug or what they have decided is currently their most favorite rock. These things are important; I should be glad that they still want to share them with me.
He still brings up that fly away balloon from time to time; his lip will quiver and his eyes moisten. A little thing like a balloon is sometimes not so little.