Meels and I were made for spring break. We’ve baked an apple pie, slept in until 10am, gotten our nails done, and alternated reading books and watching Netflix. The boys may be in the Seychelles, but we are having a great staycation.
One of the special things we are doing this week is staying overnight at the Intercon hotel, our home away from home. The staff up at the club level welcomed us back by loading Camille up with treats, sweets, and even a special cake.
The weather here has been crazy for the past month: cooler than normal, multiple sandstorms, and rainstorms in-between the days full of grit and haze. Yesterday was a random hot day of over 100F, but today is cool and dark again and we need a sweatshirt while sitting by the pool.
The reason for this post is I have a story I want to record before I forget and this is the best place to do it. On Saturday morning we dropped the boys off at the airport to fly to the Seychelles and we joked that they may not be experienced in a lot of things, but they certainly know how to navigate an airport.
They were to go through security and then meet up with our friends, so even easier than flying by themselves. We were waiting around to get the text that they had met up with the group when Josh got a phone call from Carter. I see his face go white and he yells, “He WHAT?!?” Well, that put my adrenaline into overdrive — what could have happened? Lost passport or ID? Getting pulled aside because they are traveling alone? Invalid boarding pass?
Meanwhile, Josh is flipping out next to me, drilling questions at Carter: “Are you OK? Where are you? What happened?” and then, “. . . but you made it through security?” and I could breathe again.
The appropriate way to tell that story world have been for Carter to call and say, “We made it through security and are ok, but . . .” Instead, what was transmitted was, “Dad! Caleb had FOUR knives on him when he went through security!!” God bless. My donkey son broke the first rule of post 9/11 travel: no weapons.
And it wasn’t just a Swiss Army knife, but also 2 knives from Budapest with carved handles and a set of super sharp throwing knives with 3 blades. I can’t even. Thankfully the lady just said “oh, you can’t have these,” and threw them away (after giving the extra sharp throwing knife the side-eye), but it could have gone really wrong fast.
I called Carter back and gave him a lesson on delivering the most important information first to prevent future heart attacks. “But Mom, I couldn’t believe it! 4 knives! What was he thinking? And those super sharp throwing knives too . . .” and then he was laughing and I was laughing and then Josh and I laughed until we cried. Caleb didn’t intentionally bring them, but has a travel tray on his nightstand that he keeps his charger, phone, and other things in and when he packed it to go he didn’t make sure he unloaded his cache of weapons first. Oh my child . . . that’s one life lesson I hope he learns the first time.
