To be honest, Romi is my preferred traveling companion. (Except for when I get an uncontrollable bloody nose on landing and then I'd take Steven in a heart beat.) The little guy is a traveler extraordinaire. He not only tells me all about the plane we are flying on, but he is easy and fun and at his best. Whereas other passengers complain and grumble and realize how much it sucks to be stuck on a plane, Romi is calm and happy, perfectly content to be in the air. He is even a pro at going through security, far better than most adults in line in front of us. I want to scream while I impatiently watch someone fumble around, looking for their keys, not realizing they need to remove jackets and belts and shoes, forgetting that they have a water bottle water or a laptop to remove. But not my Romi, He's the fastest passenger ever. He grabs a bin, whips off his shoes and hat, and heads through the metal detector like a pro.
Recently, after going through security, Romi looked at me and said, "Me no take off my shirt. That would be freaky." The guy in line behind us burst out laughing and cheerfully agreed, "Yes, that would be taking it too far."
Romi is full of gems lately. When I asked him why he wasn't getting dressed, he responded, "It's not working well for me." When I called out to ask how the clean up was going in the next room, he yelled back, "Not so good!" When he's not exclaiming "darn it" he wields a pretty good, "oy vaysmeer!"
He's at that age where, for good and bad, what we say comes back at us. I have been admonished on more than one occasion that it was past my bedtime and to go to sleep. Of course, there are those things he still doesn't get quite right. When he wants his favorite burrito for dinner, he asks for Pi-cho-lay (Chipotle) and when Rob recently visited a local farrier school, Romi made certain that everyone knew that Abba was a fairy school. One could only wish!
