Earlier this month, I blogged about how my Maddie became so upset when her balloon animal popped in the car. You can imagine my dismay, then, when we took the girls to a St. Patrick’s Day party this weekend and Maddie got another balloon puppy. “My first Balloon Puppy died,” she reminded us. Yes, Maddie, we certainly remember.
It was no surprise yesterday when the air went out of the new Yellow Balloon Puppy’s backside. His front half remained inflated, but his back half was a limp balloon. Maddie continued to take good care of Yellow Balloon Puppy, and she loved him in spite of his deflated backside. I was not surprised to find Yellow Balloon Puppy resting on my pillow when I walked into my bedroom last night. He had a trying day.
Today, I got this text from my mom:
Yellow Balloon Puppy had officially died. And my sweet, sensitive Maddie was walking around the house holding on to his deflated remains. Why must this child be so sensitive? Why must she take everything to heart? I felt so sad for Maddie.
Instantly, I was reminded of a comment left on one of my posts the other day. (That particular post was about how Maddie cried when we flew a kite.) Hopesm80 said this:
…know that we worry not because we can’t see the beauty in the world, but instead because we can.
I smiled. My sweet, sensitive Maddie cries because she sees all the beauty this world has to offer. Where one child might see a deflated balloon, Maddie sees beauty. And there is no sadness in that.