the air show is the party...

We have been saying that (ad infinitum) for a year now. It all started at last year's airshow (there is a big one here every November) and for a long while following,  my son (kid 1) would say "There's the airshow" every. time. we. passed. the. airport.
My husband (who is oh so helpful and believes in clarity above all) explained to kid 1 that we were actually passing the airport and that the airshow is like a PARTY where the airplanes all get together and have some fun.
So then we said "There's the airport and the airshow is the party" every. single. time. we. passed. the. airport. Awesome.

But I digress.

This year my husband could attend the air show with us (he had to work during last year's show). Oh and his parents came down (no seriously, it was loads of fun. loads.).

His (the hubs) magical plan was that we would go sometime around noon and hang out until around 5 or 6. With a two year old and a three year old. And no nap. Oh...and he would go golfing with his dad that morning. Did I mention the no nap thing? When questioned about it, husband said "Can't they just go down early?". Yes dear, I'll put the kids down for their nap at 9 AM. Yahoo.

His reasoning was that a list of events hadn't been posted and he REALLY DIDN'T WANT TO MISS THE BIG JETS. REALLY, REALLY, REALLY.
At which point I assured him that those were the finale (silly man) and OF COURSE we'd get to see them!
So we agree to a shortened nap. Yay..mama happy.

We throw everyone into the car around 1.30 and head out. Immediately we get caught behind other awesome parents heading post-nap to the airshow (and driving brake-on the entire way so they can watch the planes over head. Good times.)

Finally, we get to the lot where we are helpfully directed through the gate. And by helpfully, I mean there are approximately 27-36 volunteers milling around and rather lethargically waving their arms around (although not in any particular direction, hmmm....maybe they missed their naps). Once we get through the ticket check, our FOUR lanes merge (and I am using that word loosely here) into ONE. All of the 57 volunteers are no where to be seen (so its a bit of a 2 mile per hour free-for-all).

And guess what is passing over to our right. THE BIG (farking) JETS. Seriously?! Seriously.

Husband begins to very quietly and maturely strain to see the planes (and by that I mean he leaned his head ALL THE WAY OUT THE WINDOW AND LOOKED DIRECTLY AT THE SKY WHILE DRIVING A MOTOR VEHICLE).

Its at this point that I decide he should get out and start walking while I park the car. He gratefully agrees, hops out and almost RUNS to the entrance. I yell at him to get the boy-child out already so HE can see it too and off they go. I think they got a few minutes in before the jets left (TO LAND AT THEIR AIRPORT 45 MILES AWAY...what?). So, the only thing husband wanted to see was now over. And we'd been there 3 minutes.

And that's how I killed joy in 2012.