Only in the Big D
July 27, 2007
I took the boys to the Frontiers of Flight Museum today. Aside from the fact that James has started sitting on top of Garfield* in an effort to get his way, it was a lot of fun.
The boys were off playing in a little airplane, when I heard them both start to scream. Garfield was all, "Off! Off! Off!" And James was shrieking, "Nooooooooooo!" I was going to let it slide, but every mother, nanny, and senior citizen was looking at me, so I decided to handle it. I peeked into the porthole to see what was going on, and sure enough Garfield was sitting in the pilot's seat and big old 36 pound James was sitting on his lap.
I walked up the mini stairs to the mini aircraft and squeezed my size 10 ass through the size 5T door. Then I crawled up to the mini cockpit to try and reason with two mini humans. Guess who won?
My attempts to explain the benefits and joys of taking turns fell upon deaf ears, so I decided to give up, let them work it out, and vacate the aircraft. Unfortunately the stairs were jammed full of toddlers who don't understand words like 'move' or 'now' or 'please,' so I had to use the rear exit, which happened to be a slide. Fantastic. My day was just getting better and better.
A whole bunch of mothers were waiting at the bottom of the slide with their camera phones ready, wanting to catch the look of rapture on their child's face as they slid out of an airplane for the very first time. Most of them were surprised/disappointed when I came bumping out instead.
But one of the moms was completely frantic. As I stood up she rushed over, put one of her hands on each of my shoulders and closely demanded, "HAVE YOU SEEN WALLET?!"
I backed away a few inches and said, "No, but I wasn't looking for one. What does it look like?"
Then she backed away from me (thank goodness) and addressed the whole group of camera toting moms, saying, "He has brown hair, blue eyes, he's three years old, and he's wearing a shirt with a pirate on it."
"Well..." she exclaimed like a crazy woman..."HAS ANYONE SEEN WALLET?!?!"
Then she let out a frustrated huff and ran off yelling, "Wallet!!! Wallet!!! GET OVER HERE NOW!!"
Who, you might wonder, would ever dream of naming their child something like Wallet? A 30-something Dallas mother, with blond hair, high heels, and designer jeans...that's who.
We all stood, with mouths hanging open, as Wallet's mom ran from security guard to security guard. Then a European nanny took it upon herself to break the silence. She turned to the group of statuesque moms and in her very German accent said, "Vat in da hell do you suppose is her name? Pocketbook? Heh heh heh."
I love this city.
*That's the boy I babysit for--not his real name, thank heavens.