I love my boys. You know I do. But? The things that come out of their mouths sometimes just kills me. Seriously.
Picture the three of us on a plane together. We have just taken off and the youngest, Buzz (who was then 6) turns to me and tells me, "Mommy, you know why I like to fly in airplanes?"
Why no son, why don't you enlighten me?
Is it because you like to try and find our house from up in the sky? "No."
Because you like to calculate the vector addition of the airplane's airspeed and the wind velocity? "No"
The free peanuts? "No. I don't even like peanuts."
Then why? "Because when we take off, I get a tingle." Oh God. Please tell me he did not just say that, like, out loud.
Then, picking up on my obvious discomfort, the older one chimes in. "Yeah, I get a tingle too mommy. Right when we take off from the ground."
Okay, I think (obviously not all the way through). I can save this. "Oh," I say. "You mean in your tummy?"
"No." They say in unison. "Down there," they both say pointing, well, down there.
A year later I am alone on an airplane. A man is sitting in the seat next to me and as we are about to take off all I can think of is my two sons and their "tingles." I shut my eyes as tight as I can, and try and erase the thought from my head.
"Think about some thing else. Think about something else. Oh God. Please think about something else..."
"Excuse me," the man sitting next to me says. Oh God, he's talking to me. Why is he talking to me? If he tells me about his tingle I'm going to scream."
"You seem kind of anxious, is this your first flight?"