Liar, Liar, Pants On Fire...

Yesterday, we flew from Dallas to Cincinnati. Yesterday was one of the longest days of my life. Maybe I am a little over dramatic. Sure, it could have gone a lot more smoothly, but it also could have been a lot worse. Our goal was to get to Cincinnati and we did, even if it was 5 hours later than expected.

When my mom booked the flights using her flying benefits she didn't get a ticket for Z because children under 2 fly for free. Of course my friends and readers may already know that Z had his 2nd birthday 3 weeks ago, which means he technically does not fly for free. We were going for the "don't ask don't tell" strategy. Unfortunately they did ask. Only when the ticketing agent asked for his date of birth I made up a date, A DATE THAT MADE HIM OLDER THAN HE ACTUALLY IS! So, turns out I am a horrible liar. Her response was, "that can't be right because he would be too big", meaning he would not be flying for free and would need a ticket. That's when J stepped in and gave a date in December of 2007. Then we turned around, did 3 hail marys and were on our way*.

Assuming the worst part was over we made it through security and to the gate just about the time that a storm cloud hovered over the airport and started dumping buckets of rain causing all the flights to be delayed. We tried to keep Z entertained while waiting, 1. for our names to be cleared on the standby list and, 2. for the plane to actually return to our gate, because until that happened we weren't going anywhere.

Several hours, temper tantrums (from all 3 of us), and phone calls later we were finally boarding the plane. As I went down the jet bridge I had Z's penguin suit case trailing behind me.

I accidentally hit it with my foot and it started rocking back and forth. I couldn't get to go back on it's wheels as it kept banging against the back of my leg. I started moving faster as if trying to escape from a rabid attack penguin. That's when the man behind me shouts "That penguin is kickin'your butt". Well, isn't that the story of my life?

We made it through the flight with little too complain about and on the way off the plane a woman was commenting on how cute Z was and just casually asked "how old is he?" J answered, but I was thinking to myself "I am not sure I even know anymore. Why does everyone keep asking me that!? We don't want to talk about it, leave me alone!"



*I thought I would insert a disclaimer here just in case. No we are not catholic that was just a little guilt ridden sarcasm and no I do not condone lying, we felt terrible about it.