I never dreamt what would be the topic of my first truly sobering conversation with Rowan. A balloon? Yes. A balloon.
You'll see on tomorrow's picture of the day that getting a balloon from our grocery store is a highlight of Rowan's week. He loves to choose the color, and often I think he asks for a color that isn't in the balloon corral just so the customer service person will have to blow one up for him and he can say, "Biiiiig! Biiiiig!" Well, yesterday we went to the grocery store, and the whole way there Rowan was talking about how he was going to get a pink balloon. There was one waiting for us in the balloon corral. He said, "That one!" and we tied it to our cart as we always do. He played with it while we shopped, bopped it around in the car on the way home, and brought it inside where he proceeded to play with it as he likes to do: by laying on it and bouncing. I've tried explaining to him that one day the balloon was going to pop it and there would be a loud noise that would scare him. Well, yesterday was the day for the popping, but the noise was a bit muted (probably by his body laying on it!) so the pop wasn't loud enough to scare anybody. However...
Rowan sat up, confused, and looked up in the air for his balloon. After all, it was underneath him, he knew, and now it wasn't. But, where could it be? Did it float away? He got up and walked into the laundry room to look. He said, "Find boon." I said, "Your balloon is right here, Rowan. It popped and these pieces are all that's left." He said, "No, find! Look pink boon! Find!" He walked through the house calling, "Boon? Boon! Pink boon!" I tried to explain it several different ways, but to no avail. Finally he returned to the kitchen where the remains of the ballon were still spread on the floor. I gathered them up and tried to piece them together to make them resemble a balloon shape. I pointed out the purple shiny ribbon that I hoped he would remember had been tied to his balloon, but now it was just tied to a little stub of pink balloon material. I said again that he didn't need to look for his balloon because it is right here, but that it is broken and we can't fix it. He looked down, very seriously, and said, "Boon all gone. Broken. Row found boon." And he walked away.
I cried.
However, I'm awfully glad I had this initial experience with a balloon instead of something (or someone) far more prized and beloved. I realize I have to brace myself for explaining the harshness of life to this beautiful baby boy. I guess like all parents I'll find my own way of coping with it. For now, I think I'll embrace the fact that the fleeting nature of existence, be it that balloon's or our own, is an important part of the value of our lives here on earth. Without the certainty of the last day here, I think each day before it would have much less meaning. I hope to impart the joy of that sadness to Rowan. Somehow.