I let a balloon go in front of my son yesterday and he got really, really upset – like, “You’re not my dude anymore” upset. To me it was just a balloon. To him, it was something much more. I told him that we’d get him another one to replace it at some point. I tried to let him know it wasn’t a big deal. It didn’t work.

While riding with his mom last night he told her that he had wished upon a star that his balloon would come back to him.

Kim, being the awesome mom she is, devised a plan. Shortly after Tyler went to sleep, she found a yellow balloon, blew it up and tied it with gold ribbon, perfectly matching the one I let go. We debated on leaving it on the front porch, but decided it was too cold. So she tied it to his bed instead.

Tyler woke up and ran into our bedroom. “Daddy! Daddy! Wishes do come true. My balloon came back to me. I told you it would.” It blew his mind that the balloon returned.

Kim made his day. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a bigger smile on him.