So our flight out of San Diego was cancelled. It wasn’t just any cancellation. American Airlines pretty much flipped us the bird, laughed at our dismay, and then mooned us just for good measure. It was such an uncomfortable and exhausting day for the boys that we resorted to allowing Worm to do anything he wanted as long as it would keep him from screaming in public.
You want to throw your dinner on the floor?
You want to throw my dinner on the floor?
You want an entirely different dinner?
You want to throw that on the floor too?
You want to run through the airport, cackling like a maniac?
You want to run through the airport, cackling like a maniac, pushing your own stroller?
You want to touch every gadget in Brookstone?
You want to sit on the back massager chair that could pinch you?
It pinched you?
Yeah, saw that coming a mile away.
You want to sit on it again?
Look there’s Jo, the bestest aunt in the whole world, run to her! Run away from the gadget store! Run, Forrest.
You want to walk around with Jo?
You want to walk around with Daddy?
You want to walk around with Mama?
You want to walk around with Huck?
Um… okay, but I’ll follow at a safe distance.
You want to ride up and down, up and down, up and down, up and down, up and down, up and down on the escalator?
Okay, but hold my hand.
During one of our many time killing excursions, Worm barreled between two business men, bumping into their legs. It was after eight p.m. at this point. One of the men looked down at Worm and then said under his breath, “Why would you travel with a kid that age this time of night?” Clearly, he did not mean for me to hear him because when I whipped around and looked at him, he immediately turned red.
About nine clever comebacks popped into my mind as we walked away, but all I could think of at the time was, “Our flight was cancelled, asshole.”
It kills me that’s all I could think of in the moment, but at least I got to call him an asshole in front of his colleague. It made me feel just a tiny bit better.