September 21, 2010.
Seven days before our eighth wedding anniversary.
Buttercup's first day of preschool.
And a wish was made.
September 21, 2011.
Seven days before our ninth wedding anniversary.
Buttercup's second year of preschool.
And a wish is revisited.
I am the oldest of five and the mother of one. For those of you not familiar with the Number of Siblings to Children Ratio Theory, it basically means that everything I couldn’t have as a kid (because my father would have had to buy or do the same for each sister after me) I do for Buttercup. Pre-school is a perfect example, so I wanted to commemorate the event with a little gift.
So I bought a balloon that said, “You are so special to me!” And I presented it to her in class.
Buttercup smiled and tightly held on to the balloon as we walked to the minivan. I tried getting her to tell me about her day, but she kept saying she had to make a wish. I honestly had no idea what she was talking about.
It wasn’t until we got to my van that Buttercup looked up, let go, and wished on her balloon.
As it floated into the clouds, I vaguely remembered her cousin coming to visit. We had gone to a grocery store where they give the kids a free balloon in the checkout and Buttercup lost hers on the way to the car. To calm her down, my nephew told her not to be sad because you could make a wish on a balloon. So she did. And she remembered.
“What did you wish for, baby?” I asked as the heart-shaped balloon floated out of view.
She turned to me and smiled.
“I wished for happiness, Mama.”