In April, we went via plane to Tennessee for a surprise birthday party for Nan. Boy-oh-boy did Iain love the plane... and everything about it. He loved walking through the airport pulling Nona's suitcase.
He loved looking at the planes through the window.
He loved the ride - sitting on Dad's lap and then falling asleep on the way up and back! (Cory did too, which was lovely for us and for our fellow travellers.)
He loved reading books while we waited for the rental car, and to depart both ways. And a sweet airprt-worker-lady came and talked to us for a while about how clearly he was enjoying his books. She recognized good old Dr. Seuss and had to come check out who the adorable fellows were who were reading him (all three!).
But oh, when we made it to Tennessee and Iain saw the delighful chaos that is his second-cousins... he was over the moon. He played, played, played.
He thought himself quite too old to be watched closely by his mommy when all his buddies were allowed to roam free (in my defense, the youngest besides Iain is four), and just took off with them. It was all I could do to keep tabs on the little guy for the rest of the weekend. Every time I turned around: "Where'd Iain go?" "Oh, he's off with ___________ (fill-in-the-blank with the name of a feisty younger cousin). I think they are ___________ (fill in the blank with a fun place to be)." And I'd set off to find him. Sure enough, he'd be having some kind of fun being a big kid, not missing me in the least. My boy is growing up. The true meaning of the phrase "bittersweet."