I heard the tears while I was still in bed. They were so sad. One of the other children came running to tell me that my five year old daughter had let her balloon go outside. The tears were soon remedied with a gift of a red balloon from her older sister, but the yellow one is gone.
“Where could it be now?” my son said while we were eating breakfast.
“In India.” the five year old said resolutely.
“What do you know about India?” my son challenged.
“It is where the Indians live.” she said, and that was that.