Friday At The Airport

When there was only one, the day was simple. There was no question on how to divide my time, or if a trip out was really necessary (and worth the trouble of getting everyone ready) no, we just went. Wyatt and I had so many fun days, little dates here and there. He'll always have a little special edge in my eye, I'm not going to lie. After all, he's the one who made me a Mom, so he'll forever hold that little special badge right there on his chest, saying loud and proud for all to see that he's the first born.

(making snow angels)

Lately though, as Ben Riley learns to move and groove and wants to laugh and smile with you and melt your heart in that way that little babies so easily do, I've started to notice a different reaction from Wyatt. Almost a little hurt, like the bounce had left his step. And even though I know that this gift of a sibling will bring him a lifetime of joy, friendship and companionship, I think that at his young age, Ben is just more of a nuisance who takes his toys.

On a particularly crabby Friday last week. I asked Wyatt what him and I should do, just us, no Ben, no Dad, just my firstborn and I. His response was clear and direct and I knew instantly there was no talking him out of that one. He wanted to go to the airport.

So Ben went off with Nana and Papa and Wyatt and I headed on out. When we pulled into the short term parking lot and got a space only a crosswalk away from the airport. I said a little thank you for small towns. And because we had (just by chance) timed it ever so perfectly, the airport was between flights, and therefore deserted.

We passed through the automatic sliding glass doors, and it was as if paradise had just appeared before Wyatt's eyes. The baggage carousel, the escalators, the big dead animals behind glass. (yes that's right). Not knowing which way to go first, he took off in a near sprint, me trailing closely behind, happy once again to live in a small town.

Several, well close to ten, escalator rides later, I finally talked him into heading home. We had thoroughly explored every nook and cranny of that airport that was available to us without going through security. And I'm sure the TSA agents were starting to whisper and wonder when our heads kept appearing over the bend of the rising escalator every few minutes, only for us to turn around and go back where we came from. Oh well, I just smiled.

Wyatt thanked me with a kiss as I strapped him into his car seat, and off we headed. Home again, listening to the garbage truck song on repeat, and at a volume that was just a little too loud. Home again to a brother and a Daddy and a world of Mommy sharing. But he talked for days about his trip to the airport, and I knew that when we were there, he felt like the only boy in the world.