A few weeks ago Daughter and I were driving our sweet Boston Bogey to physical therapy. It had been raining for nearly a week straight and as we cruised past Lake Nokomis we noticed the flooded green areas and softball fields, the really high lake and the ducks swimming in puddles. At the moment the rain had stopped, though the sun had not made an appearance. As we started our ascent up the freeway entrance ramp a few minutes later the skies opened up and the rain came back.

“Out! I’m done!” Daughter shouted from the backseat.

“What kiddo?” I smiled and continued to stroke Bogey’s cheek so he would calm down.

“I’m done with the rain. I’m out.”

She paused.

“Can you drop me off at the airport?”

Daughter is five. The airport was right there to our left. It made sense.

“Do you want me to drop you off on our way home?”

The appointment would be short and we’d have to drive by the airport anyway.

“Yes, I need to get out of here.”

Bogey finally sat down, I rested my hand on his quivering back.

“What will you do in the airport if I drop you off?”

“I’ll tell them to Put Me On A Plane to North & Caicos”

She means Turks & Caicos, but gets it confused with North Caicos where we met our sweet puppy Luna.

“Okay,” I say and keep driving.

After the appointment, which was brutally painful for Little Man Bogey, I took a different way home to avoid traffic. As we approached the Mendota Bridge we could see the airport in the distance.



“You didn’t drop me off at the airport.”

I smile.

“Baby, what would Daddy say if I came home without you and told him I dropped you at the airport?”




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