Jilly Bean

After Stalker from Hell entered our lives we've learned that it isn't smart to have just one adult in this house -- it's nuts around here and easy to lose sight of a sweet angel we love so dearly. So, this week my Aunt Jill came out to be our Savior. She flew in Tuesday morning and Xander and I parked in short term parking.

I ended up getting my rotund self stuck between the slider door and the Escalade next to us. Good thing it's winter in Des Moines and cars are clean. NOT. They are covered in crud. Nice. My new raincoat was a fun splurge that was now looking like something I drug out of the Goodwill pile that had been chilling in our garage for a decade. X was rocking his new Baby Gap navy overalls and navy and white striped button down - he was downright adorable and clean, as I held him out like a cub meeting his pride (think Lion King and Simba a la Circle of Life) and he just kicked and kicked thinking this game of "how can we not get covered in scum" was the best game ever.

We made it into the airport and waited at the end of the tunnel where passengers emerge back into the bomb-laden waiting areas. A portly, tiny man better suited to spend his days playing Bridge at the local Senior Center came over to us and tapped on his TSA badge. A conversation ensued that really, is comical now.

"Ma'am, are you a ticketed passenger?"

"Nope! Just waiting on my Aunt."

"You do see the sign stating TICKETED PASSENGERS ONLY BEYOND THIS POINT?"

I looked up, saw it, and realized that Xander's Pedi Ped-clad toes were sort of beyond the sign.

"Oh. Sorry!" and Baby Unibomber was pulled back into the war-zone.

TSA Grandpa walked back the eight feet to his stool, sat down, and stared. When Baby Unibomber started to totter within two feet of the sign, he hauled up his girth, shuffled on over, tapped his badge, and started the whole thing over again.

And again.

Let me assure you this airport is not JFK or LAX. In fact, I once forgot my driver's license and was waved through security with a smile and a have a nice trip! I've also never once been asked to not bring a liquid through or take off a sweatshirt.

So, I think Gomer Pile was just thrilled to finally have something to do with his eight hour shift. Something exciting like tap his badge and make sure Baby Unibomber didn't get within a foot of a thirty foot tunnel to security.

Finally, after his badge was covered in his finger prints from tap-tap-tapping, Aunt Jill came through the tunnel and Xander started saying, "Nanananananananananananana!"

Nana was my grandma, Jill's mom.

Jill's eyes teared up and she said, "I'll be your Nana!"

X dived-bombed her arms and nestled into her neck with a "Nananananananananana!"

A love story shortly commenced and my Aunt's heart doubled in size as her sweet grand-nephew felt her mom's spirit in her essence. That, if you knew my Nana, is the biggest compliment a woman could receive.

Oh, Nana. I'm glad you've met my little man. I knew you'd love him, too.