Ok, I just wanted to tell you quickly about the trip out to the airport to pick up Josh. On the drive out there Raphi discovered the concept of volume. As in loud. We were driving peacefully along, listening to The Five Little Peppers And How They Grew on tape, and Raphael noticed that Max was turned away, looking out his window.
“MATS? IS YOOO SWEEEEEEPING?” he shrieked (translation: Max, is you sleeping?). Max, who had been startled out of at least a few years of his life, was glaring wordlessly at him.
“MAAAATS? ISSSS YOOOO-” I cut him off.
“No, honey, Max isn’t sleeping. Can you use a quiet voice in the car please?” He nodded in assent, and we went back to peaceful listening mode. Eventually (after about a week – do you know how far away DIA is from actual Denver?) the airport came into view.
“AH SEEEE DA AIRPORT! WEEEE GET JOSH?”
“Yes, Raphael,” I replied, wiping the blood from my ears, “we’re going to get Josh.”
I’ll spare you the rest of the drive out there, but suffice to say it was painful.
Then we got there, just a touch early. Like, say, 15 minutes. Which is good, because the airport is such a fine place to wait with three squirrelly boys. What with all the strangers running around and all. Sigh.
We were standing in a waiting area, waiting, and Max took to alternating between asking contemplative questions and hitting his older brother. That scene went something like this:
Max: (gazing at the cavernous ceiling) Mama? How do you know we’re not on TV?
Me: (lugging Raphael back from yet another escape attempt) Well, I’ve never seen us in the TV guide, so we must not be.
Tre: OW! (rubbing his arm where Max just hit him)
Sigh.
There was a helpful airport employee who came over to us and asked what time the flight we were waiting for came in. I told her 12:50. It was by then 1:05, or something like that.
“Oh,” she nodded at us knowingly, “you DO know that you have to add a good 20 minutes onto the landing time, to let them de-plane and make their way out here? Right? It takes about 20 minutes.” I smiled, hoping it wasn’t coming across as a grimace,
“Yes, so they should be here in five minutes or so, right?” She consulted her watch,
“Right. Five to…15 minutes. Somewhere in there.” Then, her work done, she sailed on to annoy…er…help some other person. Tre had been closely following our conversation, and at her parting shot he descended into despair.
“FIFTEEN MINUTES? But we’ve been here an HOUR already!” You should know that this hour was in Tre time, which can vary greatly from reality. We’d been there maybe ten minutes.
“He will be here when he gets here. It really shouldn’t be long now. Max, sit down. You’re still in time out. Oh, hi Josh. Raphi, you – JOSH!”
Hugs all around, and now all is well.