C-5 planes, you've seen 'em all

Yesterday was the second annual trip to the Miramar Air Show. It went a lot like the first annual trip: much interest in seeing planes, no interest in going in them. This time it was K who was absolutely sure that they would be moving at some point. "No go in airplanes," she insisted. "Too high." "Um, they stay on the ground, sweetie." "No go in airplane. Too high for K-K!" And no, we didn't tell her that she would be going in a airplane in less than two weeks time. Why cross that bridge until it's burning underneath us?

We settled for lots of looking and walking and pointing at the planes that were indeed high, but purposefully and well-piloted so. Again: arrive early, leave early, and throw in a little Hawaiian barbecue for lunch.

B insists, upon reading this, that I must appreciate that M was willing to go inside the C-5 this year, something he absolutely refused before. You'd think after two trips to the air show, I'd know what a C-5 is by now. I think it was the massive plane they march the big brass band through. Let's be honest--they all look like airplanes to me. Sure, some are bigger than others, some are clearly more aerodynamic. But they all fly, right? At least, when they're not sitting around for our perusal. So as far as I'm concerned, in or out, high or grounded, C-5 or F-16, if we managed to make it through without tantrums, traffic, or personal injury, and still managed to have a pleasant lunch, I'd say we made the most of our Sunday.