I used to be very afraid of balloons, to the extend that I could not stand less than 3 feet away from one. Then along came the children. Almost every special event we took them to, there would be a clown or somebody handing out balloons. A brithday party would be no fun without them. It became a choice between my curing myself from some kind of phobia and depriving my children of some essential element of a happy childhood.

The choice was clear. The first time we took Nolan to a Santa Claus Parade, we drove home with a balloon tied to the handle of the passenger seat right behind me. I had goosebumps the whole drive home.

Gradually, I grew brave enough to handle them. Yes, BRAVE is the appropriate word. 3 years ago, Kaelin became interested in balloon animals and wanted to learn to make them. That was a challenge. Not only did I have to touch, hold, pass, throw and pick up balloons, I now had to blow them up, then twist, squeeze and bend them into all sorts of shapes. I managed to did it somehow.

In the process of learning how to make balloon animals, I have had quite a few balloons blow up in my hands and at my face. The loud pop still gives me shock. Every time I bend or twist a balloon, it gives me goosebumps. But I am not afraid of balloons anymore. My phobia has been cured.

Love has once again overcome fear.