The day we got back from our Golden week vacation, you asked us to buy the water balloons on our trip to the grocery. And so for more than a week, we pumped water into your balloon, one per bath time until they couldn’t fit the basin anymore. Thankfully, you then stopped requesting to create new ones. 

Ever since a week after the first ballon was made, I’ve been egging you to try to burst the balloon by throwing them on the bathroom wall. Anything, just to burst them. I was already starting to cringe as I think of the warm water stored in the balloon that’s getting “older” by the day. Molds. Mildew. Fiends. However you would cry just with the mere mention of “burst”. 

A month passed by and I already was on the verge of begging you. Six weeks after and I was already begging you. But you always say no and even asked me to make a promise that I wouldn’t burst them. I asked why? Then you said something magical. 

You and Daddy made it. I don’t want it to burst. 

And that was it. I didn’t egg you from then on. Second month passed by. Nine weeks. And then early this week when you had your bonding day with Daddy as I took the Japanese exam, Daddy bought you a water gun. The balloons stayed on the bath corner as you got passionate with your gun. 

This evening though, you were playing with the balloons and were stretching them. Until one reached its bursting pressure. You cried and then said we could refill it again. Told you it’s impossible as it was already torn. I was already cringing with how the old water inside the balloon went to the water in the tub. And I told you so, about how dirty the water must be inside. And so then, while holding your water gun, you gave your go signal to burst the balloons albeit in a lacklustre manner. You did say bye to the balloons though. 

Pretty soon I’d probably be fixating next on the molds on your water gun. And I know what you’d say then – “Daddy bought it for me!”

Keep that lovely character you have, my sweet.