Hubby's birthday was yesterday, and due to last night's home football game at the high school, we weren't able to meet up with Gramma and Boppa to celebrate then. So, tonight, we met at the Red Robin in Lisle, to have dinner and servers singing and presents.
Oh, the balloons.
Every now and then, Dad would hiss back when we'd hear the telltale ksssshh of helium being released into a balloon.
Medium really wanted a balloon.
Medium: Daddy, can I haf a balloon?
Hubby: We'll see.
Medium: I don't wanna "we'll see." I wanna "yes!"
Interesting postscript...all three kids ended up with balloons, and so did Hubby (it was on his sundae). Large popped her balloon on the sidewalk as we sat and talked with Mom and Dad, and Hubby gave her his. Once we got home, I discovered that Small Fry had untied the ribbon from her balloon, and then lost it to the skies when she let go (I felt horrible, because she let go to prove she hadn't untied it, and I feel like I should've stopped her from letting go). Being overtired meant that her grief over her lost balloon was exacerbated, and she couldn't stop crying.
I found myself praying and asking Jesus to watch out for Small's balloon. It's green, and says Red Robin on it. And, if he could catch it, maybe Jesus could give the balloon to Popoki and Keiki and let them play with it. They'd like that.
Small had stopped crying at this point, and was mostly sniffling. Medium was talking to Hubby about why Small was crying, why I was crying, and then I heard this:
"I'll give my balloon to Small. I don't mind. I don't really want a balloon."
What a great kid. She didn't even complain when Small wailed that she doesn't like white (Medium's balloon is white).