On Saturday afternoon I was continuing my cooking project when I heard screams from my 4 year old daughter, who was outside. Dropped what I was doing and bolted outside so quickly that I don’t even remember what happened between when I heard her and when I arrived at her side. From the sounds she was making, I feared significant bodily harm. Luckily this was not the case, but when I saw what was causing her anguish I quite honestly didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Way up in the sky, a graceful silouette against the clouds, was a pink balloon floating away. I haven’t heard such pain emanating from Morgane in a long time, if ever. And it’s not like we’ve deprived her of balloons either. But I’ve found that this age produces strong, passionate attachments to inanimate objects that can change by the day – oh, how fickle love can be. Despite my immense relief that she was unhurt, and my pounding heart that was still recovering from the burst of adrenaline a few moments prior, I hugged her tight and told her that balloon was now free to explore the sky and see the mountains all around him. “But mom”, she replied, with a shocking grasp of the way things really are, “he’s just gonna pop”. Well, she’s 4, and while I am a strong proponent of having a good grasp on reality, I continued to romanticize balloon’s skyward journey a bit. It felt like the right thing to do, given the grief she was experiencing for the love lost. For whatever reason, this entire episode made me both laugh and cry with it’s combination of raw, pure emotion yet lack of true impact on our lives…it was like getting to experience something very moving without any damaging drama (and btw, Morgane’s sadness was assuaged with the promise of going to the party store to get another balloon). Ahhh, motherhood…