Went with Mommy to pick out her new black convertible mustang this weekend, and while she was off signing papers, the kids began to get a little...well, let's just say animated after 3 hours at the dealership. So, the nice (read: thoroughly annoyed) salesman brought over 2 great big helium balloons and slipped them on Saia's & Chago's wrists.

Two minutes later (yes, TWO), Chago has expertly disentangled himself from the stranglehold of the evil balloon string and released it back into the wild to run free with all the other gaseous beasts.

And then he screamed. Like he'd lost an appendage, he screamed. Pointing and gasping, hands to his face, stomping his foot. The nice (read: downright irritated) salesman brought over a replacement balloon, which I allowed him to have against my better judgment because we don't reward tantrums.

"Mama, do you know that is my balloon up there?" he asks - and curiously without a single tear in his eye. "Yes, Chago, I know," replies Mama incredulously. "Mema, did you know that was my balloon?" he continues. "Yes, Chago, I knew that, too," replies Mema, attempting to hide her smirk. Then he turns away from us, towards the sea of people walking by hoping they won't be approached by a nice salesman, and he says to anyone within earshot, "PEOPLE! DID YOU KNOW THAT WAS MY BALLOON?"