To Whom Much Is Given, Much Is Required

Once, a long, long time ago, (in fact I'm fairly certain I was still in a stroller,) we were at some sort of fair, and mom and dad bought me this really great balloon. It was shaped like a bunny's head. It was that foil, expensive kind, and they let me hold it. Even at the young age I was, I could sense the value of this bunny balloon.
It looked something like this:
Except... yknow, less creepy.
Anyhow.
Somehow, in the excitement and wonder happening around me, the string slipped out of my hand and floated up toward the sky. It joined the other freed spirits making their way towards the clouds. It didn't belong there... with all those other less fantastic, boring, round balloons. I was so mad. I cried and cried and cried. I remember thinking, How could they just place something of that sort of value in my hand?
Fools! I'm a frekin toddler, what do you expect? Get me a replacement! I demand it.
But, my dad let out an annoyed sigh at the waste, and the stroller pushed on, with me weeping at my lost balloon. I knew another one was not to come.

There's times I feel as though I'm still that little girl, holding onto something that I know is of far greater worth than I'm qualified to carry.

After that incident, I always held balloon strings so tight it made little fingernail marks in my skin, even though the balloon I held then had much less comparative worth. Even the very young know what it is to live with regret.