He's the Bomb

Dear Connor,

Funny questions you asked at the airport when we were traveling to Pittsburgh last week: "Mommy, what is that hole in the back of the airplane? Is that its tushee?"

Funny conversation you had with one of the flight attendants:

Flight attendant: How old are you?
You: I'm 6 years old. How old are you? 25?
Flight attendant: I wish I was 25. I'm 35.
You (calling out loudly because the flight attendant had walked to the front of the plane): MY MOM IS 35, TOO!

Not-so-funny exchange we had at the airport security gate when we were flying back home yesterday:

You: Why do they make us take off our shoes?
Me: They want to make sure there are no dangerous materials in our shoes.
You (loudly): What kind of dangerous materials? Like a bomb? A bomb, Mommy? Why would anyone put a bomb in their shoe? How could you fit a bomb in your shoe?
Me (in an exasperated whisper): Oh my god, Connor, stop saying 'bomb'!!"

Love,
Mom