Anna, I’m begging you on behalf of mums everywhere, please — it’s time to ban helium balloons.

Thousands of them were distributed to happy children during the Ekka and environmentalists slammed the act as “madness” and a wildlife hazard.

Premier Annastacia Palaszcuk quickly put to bed any notion that helium ballons will be banned under her government, but I would like to appeal to her to re-consider.

I’m hoping that she will read this column, which isn’t impossible, as her own insightful bunch of words are only pages away from mine in this very publication.

If she is anything like me, she stalks her letterbox bi-weekly, waiting for her work to arrive in glossy print. Then she greedily reads it to see if it came across on paper the same way it did on the computer screen. Afterwards, she probably skims over all the other contributors’ contributions, because, you know, she’s a team player.

Another avenue of appeal could come via my cousin-by-marriage and her actual cousin. We are vaguely related and therefore best friends forever. A fact I only discovered on election night when I witnessed my cousin-in-law hugging her on the TV. I was the only family member who had no idea that the “Stacia” I mingled with at weddings and christenings was the same woman.

I should stop guzzling the communion wine.

So to my colleague, cousin, and Premier of Queensland, please, I beg you, ban the balloon.

The Greenies and I are picketing hand in hand on this one. However, my motivation is not the environmental kind. I do believe they cause great concern for our marine and land dwelling animals, sure. But if not for the little lives of helpless animals, think about the parents of little humans.

I shall state my case.

Firstly, they are a gaudy decoration. We can do better than that.

Secondly, when we do use balloons for decorations it is inevitable that at some point someone will suck the helium out of them. Thus upsetting the aesthetics of the party for humor. Sure, it is funny to hear you talk like Mickey Mouse. It isn’t funny that my Mickey Mouse decorations are pillaged at my party. Helium balloons are expensive. The world is running out of helium, true story, Google it. Save it, don’t suck it.

Thirdly, Tantrums. Every time a nice person gives my child a balloon, five minutes later, she’ll make like a song out of Frozen and accidentally let it go. While it makes its getaway to the heavens, the hot air from her meltdown also escapes from her mouth. Desperately, I will appeal to her: “I’ll get you another one, darling!”

Does that work? No.

“I WANT THAT ONNNNNNEEEEEE!!!” she will wail and throw herself on the ground, grieving for what will never be. On the flipside, if her precious balloon does make it to the safety of our home, I’m forbidden to dispose of it.

Man, those things breed. I have hundreds of old shriveled up sacks of sadness lying limp in my lounge room. It looks like a male-only over-80s nudist colony, if you know what I mean.

So please, for the sake of the sanity and serenity of mothers and fathers everywhere, save us, Annastacia.

Save us from the balloon.