Every year Husband and I are afflicted with Travel Amnesia. In our desparation for R&R, and need to go somewhere far from home, we decide to venture a flight - with absolutely no recollection of the last trip and our declarations of "never again." It's not until the morning of travel that it all starts coming back. The kids deciding this is the morning they will demand a large, balanced hot breakfast. Their inability to find the most essential gear, such as DS games and the T-Rex with the red stripe; their claim that the shoes/headphones/pjs/swimsuits/ books/toothbrush/flip-flops /underwear, etc. I've packed for them is unsuitable for travel and "Can we please buy a new one when we get there, please Mommy, please?" And I irrationally agree, as I'm singularly focused on the goal of getting all 3 kids and the luggage into the car in under 4 hours - ambitious, but I think I can do it. When we're nearly at the airport, there's the distressed cry of "My belly hurts," - the 3 y.o.; "I forgot my goggles!"- the 7 y.o.; "Can I call Danielle?" - the 10 y.o. Me: "Try to make a toot. I packed them for you. It's too early to call anyone." I'm absolutely giddy that the ride has been uneventful, with only one accusation of "She called me a turd!" and only one demand of "How long 'til we get there?" At the airport we prepare our boarding passes, drivers' licenses, notorized affidavits that we are wearing clean underwear, blood and urine samples, proofs of purchase, proof of life, declarations of sanity, and flags for pledging allegiance. We're ready. But naturally, we draw the
surliest of TSA agents who eyes us all with unveiled suspicion and instructs us to begin stripping. Off come the shoes, sunglasses, belts, hats, bracelets and tongue studs. My 10 y.o. hesitates before stepping through the magic metal blessing portal. "What about my retainer?" she whispers to me anxiously. I can't help myself - I whisper back to her and she steps up to the surly agent and offers her spit-laden oral appliance. The agent is satisfyingly mortified and suddenly we are rushed through. Hoooray! We're in - we haven't been arrested for breathing too heavily or having too many vowels in our names. They've confiscated my daughter's bubble gum toothpaste (it was 4.2 ounces, instead of 3) and I can't possibly give my son his juice after they dip-tested it "for explosives" (seriously - that's what they said), but for only $1200 worth of tickets and a bit of humiliation, we get to fly!
