Airport Adventures

If you’ve never met my son, John Caleb, then you’re missing out on one of the most excited, vibrant, passionate little boys. He has a zest and excitement for life above and beyond other children. Now, don’t get me wrong, this can lead to trouble on his part, but for the most part, it just puts a big smile on my face.

Well, last Thursday, we picked up my mom (Omi) from the airport. As we waited for her, there was a young woman waiting for someone holding balloons. John was excited to see the balloons (“LaLoons”)  and wanted to play with him. So, I told him, “Next week when we come get Papa at the airport, we’ll bring some balloons for him.”

My father (Papa) flew into town today. As promised Omi and I took him to the party store and he picked out three balloons: yellow, blue and orange. (And all the Gators fans say, “Amen!”) We get to the airport and have to drop Omi off at the bathroom. Let me explain a bit about the Salt Lake airport. The parking garage and the terminals are connected by a sky walk, sometimes this creates multiple elevator rides, but we were lucky today. In the skywalk they have one of those conveyor belt people mover things, that I normally don’t use as I push my double stroller.

Anyhow, we got out of the car and I tied the balloons to John’s wrist. We get to the sky walk and step on the people mover. John’s so excited. Then the balloons come off his wrist. Luckily it was a low ceiling, but we’re moving away from the balloons. Not wanting to leave John behind and have him move further and further away from him, I grab his hand, “running” in the wrong direction reaching for the balloons. Now, this only went on for less than 30 seconds, regardless, I must have given someone quite the laugh. So, we step off the belt and go down the escalator. I find the monitors and realize, that we’re pretty late (due to a major accident) and that we should check the baggage claim. As we walk down I see Papa. So, as soon as we get close enough (still pretty far out) I bend down and I point out Papa to John Caleb and tell him to run to him. So there goes my almost-three-year-old son, screaming at the top of his lungs, balloons flying behind him, running as fast as he can to PAPA! It was the cutest thing in the world.

John proceeds to help my dad get his luggage and then insists on pulling his heavy (for a 3 year old) suitcase through the airport, while I’m wondering if I’ll get called in on child labor laws because of how hard his working to pull the suit case. So, we go up the elevator, across the people mover, down the elevator to the rental car place. (John of course loving all of the buttons he gets to push.) As we wait for my dad to finalize the car rental stuff, John simply enoys himself, finding anything and everything to entertain himself with. Right as we’re ready to leave John sees the bathroom and decides he needs “poopoo potty” which doesn’t really mean poopoo but rather simply potty. Anyhow, so I take him in there and he goes peepee on the potty like a big boy. He’s so proud of himself that he claps and screams “YAY”. Which my parents (and everyone else) can hear outside the bathroom.

So we get out of the stall and wash our hands. Now, we come to the paper towels, which are the kind that automatically release a new paper towel after you’ve pulled the other one. So, John pulls it, it gives another paper towel, he pulls that one, it gives another paper towel, “No, John, we don’t…” he pulls it, it gives another, he pulls… “No, sweetheart, we don’t…” he’s able to rip a little piece, it gives another, “John, no, we don’t need another paper towel”, but his yanking rewards us with another one, as I try to physically remove him from this possibly endless repetitive situation.

Now, we’re ready to go. We say goodbye to Omi and Papa and push the buttons on the elevator to get us to our level parking garage. As we enter the garage, John is simply heartbroken that Omi and Papa aren’t with us and doesn’t want to take another step. I finally conivince him to get to the car that we’ll see Omi and Papa in a little bit.

And for some reason, as I finish this story up, I feel as though it could be a Curious George book!


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