For as long as I can remember, there have been airplanes in my life. Airshows every November, and when we moved to our 'new' house when I was seven, my dad made sure there was enough room for a grass landing strip in our backyard. I woke up to zooming airplanes buzzing over our house every Saturday morning. My dad and his buddies were using the sky as their own personal playground. My dad has built and sold various airplanes over the years. My parents are always flying away on mini day trips. My younger brother is even a flying instructor. I would fall asleep on a blanket on the concrete at airshows. People walking by couldn't believe that I could sleep through all that loud noise. What can I say? Airplanes are in our blood.
Lately Gage has been obsessed with the thought of becoming a pilot. Although I'm not quite sure his intentions began from a pure interest. My dad had bought my mom an airplane simulator because she wants to learn to fly, and Owsley really, really wanted to use it. (Because airplanes were his thing.) But alas, he is too rough with stuff. So Gage decided he wanted to do it, you know, since Owsley couldn't. (Apparently siblings try to one up each other from birth. It's just as natural as pooping and breathing.) And it has been an obsession since. He swears up and down that he will have his pilot's license by his 8th birthday.
I am so glad that Gage and his Grumpy have this hobby they can share together. It makes Gage feel special getting to do something alone with my dad, and I know my dad is thrilled that his grandchildren are taking such an interest in his planes. Especially after years of Gage vehemently telling him 'NO!'
These are the moments that I take a step back and tear up. When did my little boy get so big? When did he get so brave? I am so proud to be his mother.
As I watch Owsley run up and down the runway, shouting out, 'Grumpy and Gage-Gage! There they go!' I know he won't be too far behind.