this story originally appeared in the philippine daily inquirer on February 7, 2002.
Have you ever had those days when you wished all the balloons in a child’s little world would just pop out of existence, instead of remaining scattered all over a room to gather dust during their short life cycles? One recent Saturday was such a day for me and my husband.
My mom brought my daughter Avi, who is almost 3 years old, to a lunch party for a dear aunt who was turning 77. Avi came home trying to keep a playful smile on her face while juggling four huge balloons on sticks which seemed to keep escaping from her grasp every time she took a step. The big impish grin on her face told me that she was proud to have so many balloons.
I turned to look at my husband, when I heard Avi exclaim “Oh no!” She was laughing excitedly as another balloon escaped from her fingers.
“Oh no!” groaned my husband after seeing so many balloons. He then called my daughter to his side and asked what she intended to do with so many balloons.
Her simple reply was: to play with them, of course. And then she started to show off her new acquisitions in front of us.
My husband gave me a conspiratorial look and suggested very softly that I get rid of two of those balloons as soon as Avi put them down and looked away. We were scheduled to go to the hospital for her younger sister’s monthly check-up so he said he was sure Avi would not notice the loss of the two balloons.
I responded with a frown, but he rushed to explain that only two poppers would fit inside our tiny room. He was right, of course, but I didn’t have the heart to take away half of my daughter’s joy.
Trying to think fast, I remembered an article that I had read earlier. It said that parents should encourage toddlers to give early in their young lives. This seemed like the perfect time for giving that lesson.
I asked Avi if she would like to share her balloons with her younger sister Altine. Her quick nod and offer of a violet balloon to her 7-month-old sister were good signs.
Now, for the other two balloons. “Avi,” I asked, choosing my words carefully, “Do you want to give the other balloons to other children, too?”
The smirk on her mouth and her raised eyebrows told me all too plainly that she wasn’t going to be fooled by this one. “Mommy,” she explained, “these balloons need me to take care of them. I can’t give them away.”
I turned to my husband for help, but he was trying hard not to show his amusement. When he turned his back on us, I knew no help was going to come from that corner.
“Avi, my dear,” I smiled to show her I was confident that my idea of giving was good, “there are so many children in the streets who are sad. These balloons can make them smile. Don’t you want to make them smile?”
Her answer was a curt “No.”
Still I insisted that we bring two of the balloons on the trip to the doctor. And while we were in the car my eyes would wander around, hoping to find a street child whenever we had to stop for the red light.
It was while we were waiting for the final turn that would take us to the hospital when a girl of about 6 knocked on Avi’s side of the window. My daughter looked at me with big, stubborn but questioning eyes. She looked at the balloons which she had been hiding on the floor since the start of the trip. I looked at her intently hoping she would take the hint, but she avoided looking again in my direction.
The battle of wills between me and my daughter was at a standoff when my husband pulled out a balloon and ordered my daughter to give it to the little girl by the window. Then he opened the window on Avi’s side of the car and we felt relieved when she quickly gave the balloon to the street child.
The little girl seemed surprised and amazed by the gesture, and she just turned away without saying thank you. Of course, she didn’t see my daughter’s glum face.
As the girl walked farther away, Avi observed: “Mommy, she didn’t seem happy with my balloon.”
I had reached the same conclusion, but I refused to show it. Instead of agreeing with Avi, I told her, “Maybe she was just surprised.” To distract her, I asked Avi to get Altine a rattle from the baby bag.
As soon as the green arrow lit up, my husband turned the car and drove toward the hospital. Avi suddenly stood up from her seat, beaming excitedly.
When I turned to see what she was looking at, I noticed a group of about seven kids on the other side of the road. In the middle was the little girl holding a white balloon. She was smiling proudly and pointing to our car. And all of the kids were waving to us and shouting their heartfelt thanks!
Wow! It felt so good. And I felt even better when I saw Avi’s big contented grin. “She liked my balloon! They liked my balloon!” she shouted. She started jumping up and down the car seat in her excitement and joy.
That was when I realized that telling Avi about the concept of giving was not enough. Without saying anything, the little girl, who was now the proud owner of the white balloon, taught Avi how to truly share.
There’s a great difference between simply giving and truly sharing. When we give, we just part with something that may or may not be of value to us. But when we share, we give something and receive something in return: the chance to make somebody else happy.
Now Avi is looking forward to sharing another balloon. Doing it makes her happy.
