So a few weeks ago, my buddy Matt, who you all got to hear from a couple weeks back,

and his wife, Tani, needed a last-minute babysitter.

And my wife, Hannah, and I absolutely adore their four-year-old daughter, Mia.

And so any opportunity for Aunt Hannah and Uncle Connor to come over and play, we're all about it.

And so as the three of us are rolling around on the living

room floor, making up games, having the time of our lives, at one point Mia gets up, leaves the

room and comes back into it, holding this little bag of party supplies, and looks up at me very

sweetly and says, can we please blow up these balloons? Of course, I can't say no to her on anything.

And so very slowly, very carefully, my wife takes one of these balloons,

blows it up really small, about the size of an orange,

just big enough and safe enough for me to play with.

I'm thinking, like, well, that's lame.

Like, obviously, my wife's never been to a party before,

and I know what balloons are supposed to look

like and so being the fun uncle that I am I decided it would be a good idea in that moment for me

to blow up my balloon as big as I possibly can in order to make me a laugh some of you know where

this is headed and so as I'm blowing up this balloon bigger and bigger, her eyes are getting

wide with the excitement. She starts giggling more and more when all of a sudden pop goes the

weasel. And not only does this balloon absolutely explode all over the living room, but it makes

a sound so loud. It startles all three of us. It sounds like a gunshot going off in the middle of the house.

And her look of excitement quickly turns to this horrified look on her face. And to make matters

worse, as I look over me his shoulder, I see my wife sitting across the room, staring at me

...