Why the number “6” balloon doesn’t bother me…

I am sitting in hubby’s home office on the weathered leather sofa, my legs tucked under me. I look out the French doors into our living room and my eyes glance up at the ceiling. I notice that the gigantic Mylar balloon left over from G’s birthday party a few weeks ago, is floating there.  It somehow escaped his bedroom and joined us in the big room where we spend most of our day.

It is a huge, blue “6” and it is shiny and tacky and frankly, an eye sore.

But I don’t mind it.

There was a time when I would have gotten on a stool and taken that balloon down and cut it open so the rest of the helium would go out of it and I could just ball it up and throw it in the trash.

You know, after the kids went to bed.

Balloon, What balloon?

Oh, hmmm, not sure kids, sorry.

*slinks off to make sure balloon remnants are already outside in big trash can*

But nowadays I am trying to let some things slide and not get uptight about huge balloons still clinging to the ceiling.

Or a spilled drink all over the living room floor.

Or a kid tantrum.

Or being a few minutes late.

The next day the kiddo asks me to get the balloon down for him.  I do and he cuts it open on his own and laughs and even throws it in the trash himself.

It just goes to show that some things are not worth getting uptight about.  They just are not.  And that in time many things will take care of themselves.

I am trying to remember that these days.

Now excuse me while I do some light encouraging to clean up the LEGO mess in their room…

p.s. apparently I am also cool with popsicle eating shortly before dinner.  Who AM I anymore?!