H.o.p. is packing. No, he hasn’t decided to run off. He wants to go on an airplane. I explained to him we aren’t going to be riding on any airplanes any time in the forseeable future.
“That’s all right. I want to be prepared.”
So he gets out one of his knapsacks and starts packing toys. His fake Godzilla toy (Wowa) and toothpaste and toothbrush. And his Neopet T Rex and a T Rex from Fernbank.
“Come on, mom, it’s time to go on the airplane!”
Oh. Relief. He’s decided to make one out of a box.
I tell H.o.p. I don’t ever plan to get on an airplane again. At least not unless under duress. I’ve been terrified of airplanes ever since I was in a near collision years ago. Was in a small plane and a large plane had been given the same heading. I don’t know how it escaped disaster. I have yes ridden in planes several times since then but as soon as I get off I always say I’ll never ride on a plane again. I hate it. I’ve managed to be able to avoid taking a plane anywhere for seven years.
He tells me what “Brainpop” has told him, that you’re much more likely to be in a car wreck than a plane accident. Yeah, I’ve heard all that too. I’d still rather be on the ground.
“I want to sit in a window seat!” he says.
H.o.p. prepares to board the plane. He’s going to go to China he says to see a Chinese Dragon.
Ah, then how sweet. When he’s done playing make believe he says what he really wants to do is ride a plane back to where my dad lives, and my mom lives, because it was a great place and he liked it there. And he wants to see the Grand Canyon again.
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