I've taken my children to the airport. As far as you should be concerned, they wanted to see planes taking off, landing, eating and bathing themselves in ponds, or whatever planes do in the wild. Whatever you may hear, I wasn't attempting to stuff them into other people's luggage and get rid of them. Max, meanwhile, has been getting under my feet recently. His foolish antics, once lovable, have become tiring and crass. Packing a case for the gentleman, I've reminded him of his desire to visit Fiji.
Max has never desired to visit Fiji, but I saw an advert and sent him on his way. Hopefully he'll be far away before he realises his case is full of obsolete Video cassettes and old newspapers. Still, dressed entirely in elk fur, he's ready for the trip. I'm unsure if he knows where Fiji is though, or what climate it has. If he did, I doubt he'd have opted for 7 pairs of underwear...
For my part, I've left the kids in the airport cafe. I'll go back for them eventually, when they run out of muffins and cappuccinos.
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