Moon Over Charlotte

By Megan

On our trip down South last month, we had a three-hour-and-something layover at the Charlotte airport. I know it sounds awful, but it really was a pleasant and memorable experience. That airport has a beautiful, open atrium at its heart, full of shops and restaurants and a plentitude of beautiful Southern sunshine spilling in through its glass ceiling and wall to wall windows. Instead of the requisite steel and molded plastic seating you’re used to parking it in while you wait, the Charlotte airport has rows of oak rocking chairs, painted a clean, fresh white, for its temporary visitors to enjoy. And enjoy we did.

There’s also a beautiful balcony overlooking the atrium and all its offerings, stocked with more of the comfy, restful rockers – a great place to relax and take part in one of my favorite activities, people-watchin’. Of course, Bean took one look at the stairs that led up to that balcony and immediately began to climb them, her Daddy hot on her heels. I had already taken up residence in a rocker on the lower level, so I was happy to sit and look on as they climbed the 50 or so steps up and began exploring a newer and EVEN MORE exciting nook of this new and exciting locale. Through the clear glass balcony walls, I could see Bean scurrying back and forth across its expanse, her father in hasty pursuit, and hear her gleeful, chipmunk laughter and his Gonnagetcha gonnagetcha gonnagetchas from where I sat rocking on the floor below. Watching the two of them together’s one of the biggest joys of my life.

Knowing Bean would get a kick out of peeking down at her Mama from her perch high above, Al waved her over the the glass wall and pointed to me as I looked up, waving and smiling. Bean’s face lit up and I could hear her little voice sing out, “Look Daddeeeeeeeee! Iss Mamaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!” As she began waving back at me and smacking her little hands on the glass for all she was worth, many other travelers looked up at the commotion and smiled, laughed and waved at my little sweetie. Then I saw Al gently remove her hands and show her the smudges she was making, as an explanation for why she shouldn’t put her hands on the glass like that.

Bean listened to him with a perplexed expression, scrutinized the marks on the glass, and then paused, her little mental wheels turning. Slowly, she turned around, lifted the hem of her dress way up to expose her little bummy, clad in ribbed cotton tights, pressed her seat up against the glass, and proceeded to clean up that glass by smoodging her little Parker House rolls back and forth and back and forth across it.

The spectators laughed uproariously. Bean continued scrubbing those glass walls butt ooops, I mean BUT good.

I covered my face with my hands and attempted to compose myself.

Daddy collected himself, jerked Bean’s dress down, biting the insides of his cheeks, and escorted our little exhibitionist back down the steps, her still grinning and waving, all the way to the, er, bottom.

Megan’s hands are a wee mite full at the moment what with all the child-birthin’ and newborn-caring. This post was orginally published on her blog FriedOkra last March.