It's almost time to head to the airport. I've been up this morning since a crazy hour making my boy whatever he wanted for breakfast and trying to think of something he might have forgotten to pack in his suitcase. I've reached the they-have-stores-there stage and we are ready to close it up.
His backpack is full of enough snacks and activities to last him TWO international flights, but miraculously the thing only weighs 13 pounds. I think he must be in heaven with it and all its compartments: I can still remember when he was a toddler and wanted to pack Ziploc bags full of stuff all the time.
Me? I'm doin' okay. Last night I told Carson everything I wanted him to know before he leaves, so I wouldn't have to try to speak at the airport. He sat and listened and tried not to roll his eyes and I didn't even tear up one time. I think those things I was saying...all the safety reminders, all the encouraging words, were more for me though. He already knows them.
The most important thing I wanted him to know is that when we say goodbye I would not be talking to him because I'd be trying to keep it together, and I didn't want him to think something was wrong.
But honestly I don't think he would have noticed. He's so ready to get on that plane he can't stand it. And when he disappears around the corner after getting through security, I'll be so ready for him to get started on this trip. So ready to hear about this experience, the thing that HE'S doing that I've never done. It's gonna be amazing.