"Mama," my eight year old son said. "Look what I bought at the third grade sale." He dumped a bag of miscellaneous items on the kitchen table.
I noticed a bunch of sand-filled balloons. "What are these, Bubba?"
"Yeah, aren't they cute?"
I looked at those things. "Yes. They're cute. Now why do you need stress balloons?"
"Because you're feeding me Brussels sprouts for dinner. And Brussels sprouts stress me out."
Bubba took a couple of stress balloons and threw them on the floor.
"Okay, Bubba. Now you're stressing me out."
"Because my piggy bank doesn't have any money in it to pay for the damage your stress balloons are going to cause!"