Misfortunes at the Airport

We had been on vacation. More appropriately, we had followed Joel to Colorado to watch him do the Leadville 100. I did a lot of single parenting at a high altitude. This is, what I believe, led me to do two things: buy realistic looking cap guns (metal) and pack said realistic cap gun in Eli's carry on.

We were in the security line. Joel and Eli were ahead of me. I had my shoes off, my 3 oz. bottles of gel in a ziploc, Zeke's baby formula properly identified, when the line stopped.

"We have a situation up here," radioed a very alert looking security man. "Who still can't figure out what a 3 oz bottle looks like?" I thought arrogantly.

Joel began to frantically motion toward...me. I walked up to the front of the line.

"Do you want to surrender this gun?" Highly Alerted Security Officer asked.

"The what? the huh? the oh..... the realistic looking cap gun. That I packed. In a carry on."

Gun surrendered, Eli crying, me properly humbled, we made it to our flight.

Two days ago, we were once again in the security line at the airport. Hand sanitizer, toothpaste, lip gloss out. Shoes off, phone out, purse in grey bin. Levi turned to me just before going through the detector and said, "What about my pocket knife?"