...when you're six years old
and you get a big red punch balloon as a party favor
and you and your father blow it up with an air pump while your mother laughs
and you enjoy exactly thirty-seven minutes of playing with it
before it pops...
*I just want my balloooooooonnn...
I love that balloooooooonnn...
I didn't want it to pooooooopppp...
It was my faaaaaaavorite.
(repeat from * ad nauseum)
The boy has a zillion dollars worth of fancy toys to play with. Yet the untimely destruction of a $0.50 punch balloon is enough to send him into a hysterical fit of grief and despair.
Oh, to be six years old again...
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I think we have another.... If so I'll pop it in the mail to you...
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