In fact, Mini-Me actually reprimanded me:
"Daddy...it's not nice to keep secrets. You shouldn't have kept this secret from me. That's not nice."Point taken. No surprise parties or Cracker Jacks for Mini-Me.
But, buddy, it wasn't a secret, really...it was a surprise. We didn't tell you because we wanted it to be a surprise!
"No, daddy, it was a secret. And you shouldn't have kept it."
The boys did great as we worked our way through security and down the concourse to our gate. Mini-Me was especially fascinated by the boarded up windows from the Good Friday tornado, The Wubster was fascinated by the trucks driving around the tarmac.
On the plane I fought the good fight, constantly handing over coloring books and markers...different markers...no, daddy, different markers, V.Readers, iPods, apple juices, snacks, a half-dozen "Stop kicking the chair in front of you"s, a bakers dozen "Leave the tray up...or down...just leave it!"s, and umpteen dozen, "Shhh, please stop yelling...inside voice!"s.
By the end of the two hour flight, I was exhausted. I figured the boys, happy, but loud and hyper, had exhausted the patience of those around me, but then Mini-Me looked out his window on our final approach and announced he'd seen the moon. The man behind us tried several times to see the moon for himself to no avail, and instead struck up a conversation with Mini-Me before speaking to me,
"Man, your kids sure were quiet. I didn't hear 'em the whole flight. You really got 'em trained, dontcha?!?"My mind danced between pride and confusion. My super-sensitive parenty-sense led me to believe the boys were incredibly loud, disrupting the entire plane, raising alarms that very nearly brought out the F-15 escorts and, yet, no one around me radiated exasperation in our direction.
Yeah, I guess I do.
"Hon, did you even hear those kids in front of us? They must'a slept through that whole flight."
"No, they were awake. You were listening to your headphones the whole time. They were real good, though."
Well, thanks.
Unfortunately, I still had to maintain control, usher the boys through the airport, find the Disney Magical Express line, keep The Wubster from whipping fellow travellers with the retractable lane markers, and wait 40ish minutes for a 30ish minute bus ride 120ish minutes past the boys' bedtime.
Luckily, the bus pulled up just in time...for Mini-Me to tell me he needed to "poop...real bad."
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