Balloon

Some friends came by today to celebrate the birth of the little brother. They brought with them a balloon. It was a cheerful thing. Yellow with colorful patterns and the words "Welcome Baby" on it.

Emeth adored the balloon. He was fascinated that it could "fly" and that it was so "tall." He held onto the string while running and dancing around the apartment.

At around the third-hour with his new favorite toy, he took a bite. I quickly patched the little hole up with some tape, managed to save most of the helium, and tried my best to explain to a two-year old how a balloon works. I warned him that if he wants it to "fly," he cannot bite it.

Alas, his curiosity got the better of him. He took another bite and that was the end of the flying balloon.

As he stared at the remains of the balloon, looking a little confused, I was so sad.

I wondered how often I ruin my own gifts because I was not able to enjoy them in the right ways. The balloon reminded me how I have destroyed good and precious things because my curiosity overcame my self-control, and rebellion overtook my sense to obey instruction.