and today you are not an asshole…

When my little guy was due to come home today, I was obviously very excited.  VERY excited.  I couldn’t wait until this morning and to get into the car to drive to the airport to get my baby.

In my mind I played out that he would probably shake free from his dad, come running to me, arms open for a big hug and kiss, and nuzzle in my neck and say “I love you” in our secret code.

I was not ready for how it really went down.  Of course, I arrived at the airport early, drinking coffee, camera ready, with a little red balloon (because if I know my baby, he’s going to like the balloon!)  I waited.  I watched the plane’s arrival schedules.  I waited some more.  Finally, I saw a bunch of weary Irish people walking out to baggage.  I got ready with my camera.  However, I never used it because I heard Ricky before I saw him.

It’s kind of interesting when you hear your kid screaming.  You want to jump security, wrestle through the throngs of tired and cranky air travelers, and race around until you find your screaming baby.  I could hear him.  And I know it was him!!  A mommy knows her baby!!!

Eventually the crowds parted and there was Sean, with my baby, walking down the ramp and the kid screaming bloody hell.  His face was red and sweaty, his curly hair matted to his forehead, his bright blue eyes bloodshot, snot dripping everywhere.  He saw me, with my balloon, and shook free of his father and came tearing down into my arms.

I don’t think the word hysterical defines how he was.  He kept sobbing in gibberish.  Sean caught up and looked at me.  Clearly, I wanted to know what the hell was wrong?  Sean said he had no idea.  The baby started screaming after take off and when he wasn’t asleep, he was screaming. Instantly I wonder is he sick? Is he hurt?  I don’t see anything wrong.

When my little man finally calmed himself enough to hiccup and lay, exhausted, in my arms, he looked at me and sniffled, “ratab”

It.CLICKED.

“Sean, where’s his rabbit?”

“What rabbit?”

“The rabbit he is always carrying around?  The scruffy, gross one?”

“In the suitcase at the luggage claim.”

Today’s moral: if you are flying on a Plane from a different country with a three year old, make god damn sure you have his security item that he got when he was born!!!!  DON’T PUT IT IN THE LUGGAGE!!!

Of course we run together to the baggage and grab Sean’s duffle bag.  While my sniffling baby sniffles in my arms, Sean (like a madman) goes burning through the clothes looking for the rabbit.  I must admit I was impressed.  Underwear flying here, jeans over there, shaving cream container etc rolling towards another person.  Eventually, the bunny was found, Ricky was happy, and Sean was happy to see the boy smile.  I even have a little faith that maybe Sean will be a good father.  This is a good step in the “I’m trying not to fuck up my child” direction for him.