"I saved it for you, from my first birthday last year," said Opie.
"What do I do with a balloon?" asked Ollie.
"Not much," said Opie.
"Can I fly away on it?" asked Ollie.
"I don't know, maybe," said Opie.
Ollie sat on the balloon. It popped, and let out air and squirted and flitted around before there eyes.
"That was delightful," said Ollie, and he ran off.
Opie sat down, holding the remnants of his balloon.
"I have to ask, Opie, where did you keep your balloon safe this entire year?" I asked.
"In the hayloft, under the third beam by the north window where I play sometimes," he said.
"Hmmm, what do you play?" I asked.
"I make card houses," he said. He let out a long sigh. "My balloon is dead," he said.
"But Opie, it made you happy when I gave it to you, and it made Ollie happy when you gave it to him, and it went out flying-that's a good life for a balloon," I assured him.
Opie ran back to the barn. The goose followed him, saying, "All things must pass."
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