The balloons we got for the baby shower two weeks ago are still lingering. I guess Henry paid like, a whole dollar extra for some sort of helium steroids. I don’t know. But there are numerous survivors, clinging on to their last high-pitched super helium breath.
It’s to the point where I’ve grown accustomed to having them in the house, like unpredictably relocating pieces of home decor.
Drew’s still not a fan though.
So I decided that now I need to always have balloons in the house. The current ones are almost all sunk so maybe this weekend I’ll go get more. WHAT COLORS THOUGH?!!
But then Henry snapped, “These fucking balloons have got to go!!” and started popping them right in front of me. What a brute!! TT.TT
I guess he forgot when I woke him up in the middle of the night last week to tell him that we need to always have balloons in the house and he said OK.