You will be amazed. I found myself just giggling like a little kid… A normal little kid, not the little kid who got into a tomato box (as in – fully lined with splinters, yes) with not one but three bright red balloons to keep me company.
The outcome left me with a balloon phobia ever since. I hate blowing them up and I jump a foot in the air if one goes off near me. Call it post-traumatic syndrome. I call it logical.
Here’s the link – I found it quite therapeutic after my difficult experience all those years ago.