Ben asked. His mom was stirring oatmeal on the stove. “I don’t think so.” “Don’t we have some left from Stella’s birthday?” Ben looked at Stella, who was stacking cans of beans into a tower. “Stella, do you have balloons?” “Balloons,” Stella said happily. She knocked over her tower, and the cans tumbled to the floor with a crash. “Red balloons.” “Where are they, Stella?” Stella’s lower lip was sticking out like a fat pink worm. That meant she was in a stubborn mood. “Stella’s red balloons,” she said firmly. “I know, Stella. It’s important, okay?” Ben knelt down beside her. “I’ll get you more. I promise.” He looked at his mom. “If Stella lets me use her balloons, you can buy her more, right?” “She doesn’t have any, Ben.” His mom grabbed the saucepan as the oatmeal started to boil over. “Stella, where are they? The balloons?” Ben looked at Stella. “Tell me, okay?” “Balloons go sky,” Stella said. “Up, up.” She shook her head, and her blond hair floated like a fluffy cloud around her chubby face.
