I'm always a bit puzzled by balloons.
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These little bits of coloured latex rubber are capable of eliciting such strong emotional responses once they are filled with some form of gas, usually a mixture of nitrogen, carbon dioxide, oxygen and water vapour that we exhale.
I've seen children's faces filled with delight at the sight of balloons, and I've seen grown adults respond in a similar way when the children are no longer around, and the adults get a chance to play with the colourful inflatables.
The role of balloons in our lives, and the emotions they evoke, was brought into sharp focus in recent days when I heard a child burst into tears when his balloon burst at an outdoor event.
Now this was not a small child - he was in to 10 to 12 years age and looked like he would play front row in his local junior rugby league team.
And his response to the balloon bursting wasn't just a little sniffle - it was a howl.
He was sobbing. Loudly. For a long time.
As someone who was brought up with the whole "boys don't cry" mantra, my response to the scene was an eye roll that could have been heard 100 metres away.
But I had to check myself.
The whole idea that men and boys don't show their feelings, that any display of emotions is a sign of weakness, is the cross on which many men are crucified throughout their lives.
Sure, there is an argument that people never taught to suppress their emotions have never developed important coping skills like resilience, and there is plenty of evidence supporting that idea.
But maybe it is all just part of rebalancing, of things moving from one extreme to the other on the way to finding an equilibrium.
My generation was taught to keep emotions bottled up, but there is an old saying that feelings buried alive never die.
And for too many men those bottled up emotions came out in all sorts of unwanted ways, like the smell of stale, moist breath when a balloon bursts.
So cry little boy, cry.