Lock up your daughters

We're getting settled into our seats, me with Zeke and J with Josie in the row behind us.  I let Zeke take the window seat.  Zeke practices buckling his seat belt and I make sure that all of the essentials are in easy reach -- the DVD player, Zeke's DVDs, his Thomas backpack with books and toy trucks, the bag with the snacks.

I breathe a sigh of relief that we're on the plane and the stress of getting to the airport and getting through security is over.  As expected, all of the doomsday hype about endless security lines and body scanner boycotts was total bullshit, so we breezed through, got some breakfast when we got to the gate, and boarded without incident.

Don't get me wrong, getting through security still totally sucked.  I had Josie in a pack on my back, pushed Zeke in the stroller and carried a 47 ton carry-on in addition to Zeke's little backpack.  Because J is still recovering from his surgery, his only task was to carry Josie's car seat that she would be using on the plane.  The one consolation was that with me hobbling through the airport like an overused pack mule while J carried the equivalent of a feather, he got a lot of, "Jesus, what an asshole" looks.  To get through the security process, we had to collapse the stroller, get Josie out of the backpack and get everything onto the scanner belt, get everyone's jackets and shoes off, and then reassemble ourselves on the other side without losing either a child or our minds.  Honestly, the TSA people were so insanely nice and helpful that I don't think I could have made it without their assistance.  But in any event, that's what it's like flying with small children, regardless of whether it's Thanksgiving.

Anyway, we're finally on the plane.  We haven't taken off yet, so I don't want to start pulling out all of the toys and whatnot only to have to stow them for take-off, so we look out the window and count the planes and marvel at the construction equipment.  I take out the SkyMall catalog, which has a picture of a giant inflatable football player that I guess you're supposed to put out on your lawn on game day, and think, "this should be good for a few minutes worth of distraction before we get into the air."  So I give it to Zeke and we leaf through it and laugh at some of the silly things for sale.  He then takes it from me and sits with it in his lap and flips through it on his own.

A few minutes later, I look over and notice that he's been on one page for a while and is staring intently at one particular ad.  Of women in their underwear (it was an ad for a Spanx-like product -- body shapers, that sort of thing).  He's totally transfixed.

Nonchalantly, I ask, "hey, Zekey, what are you looking at?"

He points to a specific spot in the ad, gives me a big smile and says, "I'm looking at that lady's bum, Mama."

Oy.

This is the ad that had him so absorbed.  Try to picture a little 3 year old squirt sitting in an airplane seat, his feet barely hanging over the edge, staring at a scantily clad woman while pointing one chubby finger at her booty.  I do have to give him props for having good taste, though.  Her ass is fabulous.