Honestly, I really thought that when I made one of my kid’s dreams come true, he’d point to something other than chocolate chip cookies as “the best part” of it. But that’s the joy of a 4-year-old—it all comes down to the sugar.

Toby has been DYING to fly on a plane for quite a while now. He would see me leave for work trips and ask when he could fly on a plane. I always said, ‘Someday!’ cheerily, which, oddly, wasn’t much consolation for a 4-year-old. So, when an old college friend of mine who lives in Seattle (and so we very rarely see each other) said she was coming to the East Coast with her daughter, I saw the perfect opportunity—spend some time with her and satisfy Toby’s plane craving. Little did I know that what he picked as “highlights” of the experience would totally surprise me!

So I snapped up two tickets on direct flights between Richmond to Boston and planned a whirlwind 48-hour journey. Toby, needless to say, was pretty darn thrilled. #understatement You should have seen him wrangling my wheeled carry-on bag (which probably outweighed him) to the car. He packed 10 books and a few tractors and he was set to go. #havetractorswilltravel

We got to the airport and parked. (He was also kind of blown away at his first parking garage experience. It’s the little things, apparently.) The elevator with the glass wall was also a big hit. We trundled through the airport and on the way to security, Toby stopped in his tracks. “MOM! That’s a racecar! In the building??!!!!” One of NASCAR driver Denny Hamlin’s old cars was parked by the escalators advertising the Richmond NASCAR race. Toby was pretty much blown away. “Take my photo by it, Mom!” Not the tourist attraction I anticipated, but I went with the flow. “That was so cool,” Toby muttered as we continued on. Consider the bar set high.

He was enthralled to see the planes taxiing around. I answered a lot of questions. We boarded and settled into our seats. He behaved like a little pro, dutifully fastening his seatbelt, little legs crossed in front of him when he wasn’t gluing his nose to the window looking out. Considering how screen-free his life is, he was pretty excited to see a personal TV screen right in front of him on the back of the seat.

Then, during the pre-flight announcements, they described the snack options they’d be handing out. “We have a choice between blue chips and chocolate chip cookies,” the flight attendant said, instantly filling my child with delight. He turned to me, eyes wide. “THEY SERVE COOKIES ON PLANES?” he asked with awe. So yes, take-off and the views were fun for him, but when the snack basket came down the aisle, his day was complete. He is his father’s child.

The only thing that might have eclipsed the cookies in his view was when we descended through the clouds, which filled him with joy. But then they served cookies again on the return flight, which did not include clouds. So, cookies won as what he’ll remember from his first flight. It just goes to prove, you can try and predict what makes a preschooler’s day and you will never, ever be right.

So here’s my version of the 48-hour trip, followed by Toby’s version. They vary slightly:

We landed, picked up our rental car, and navigated around downtown Boston to the USS Constitution. After a quick trip through the museum, we went on board and had a grand time checking out the cannons, hammocks and deck.

Chilly but cold! Then we drove to another Mt. Holyoke classmate’s house in a suburb of Boston, Toby met her two daughters, we had a lovely dinner, and I put him to bed.

Day 2, we woke up to Seattle friend and her daughter having arrived in the middle of the night, had breakfast and hit the road to visit Mt. Holyoke. Had a nice time walking around campus, had lunch there, and drove back. In the afternoon, we killed time a bit with a walk to a local playground, then went out to dinner and then it was bedtime again.

Day 3, we got up (thankfully this morning, Toby decided he could actually sleep past 5:30. Until 6:30 this time! In a household where no-one stirs until about 7:30. This is when our early morning routine at home backfires.) and hit a Panera to meet up with another MHC friend and her kids, then dropped Seattle friend and daughter at the train station and carried on to the airport.

Toby’s version:

We saw a NASCAR car inside a building!

The TSA guy told me he liked my haircut.

There were chocolate chip cookies on the plane. Seriously, COOKIES on the plane. Cookies, people.

We saw a big boat. It had lots of cannons. It was cold. They put 450 people on that boat, but all those people are dead now.

Mom’s friend’s kids have really good Lego sets.

The mountain was closed. (Toby was really looking forward to climbing Mt. Holyoke like we did last summer on our trip, but it was closed for the season.)

I got to eat ice cream TWO TIMES in one day. Once at lunch and once at dinner. Two times, people.

Slime is cool. I want some. (Slime/putty was a constant with all the older girls. Toby was intrigued, especially with the noise putty that farted. #boyalltheway)

I did the monkey bars!

I slid on my butt down the skateboard ramp. It was cool!

Mom’s friend gave me a super-cool book and a monster school bus toy! (Big hits, both.)

We got a flat tire on the way to the airport.

We flew home and there were cookies on the plane again and I watched a fishing show on the TV.

Seriously though, we had a fantastic time. Toby adored hanging out with my friends’ girls, who were 9, 10 and 11. He was, in a word, smitten. I will never forget the second morning, when they were reading books at the breakfast table and he went to get his Level 1 reading book about an egg and proceeded to very proudly read it aloud to the very unimpressed girls. He was trying so hard to impress them. Welcome to the world, kid. He also might need to hone his conversation skills, as apparently he thinks asking “What’s your name?” over and over again is scintillating dialogue. Again, definitely his father’s child.

So, #thetoby’s first flight is in the books. And I know now that if we book any more tickets, I’d better have some chocolate chip cookies handy to keep up the standards.

Nota bene: You can’t fool a 4-year-old. Don’t even try.

A few weeks ago, we attended Toby’s cousin’s first birthday party. Toby’s grandmother tried to give him a gift bag, but John and I are pretty firm in our belief that he needs to learn that there are times he doesn’t get gifts and it’s all about someone else for a day. So John intercepted the green bag full of goodies, but not before Toby had for literally 10 seconds seen what the 1-year-old’s sister’s identical bag contained. Toby made no protest when the green bag was whisked away.

That green bag found its way into our car somehow when we went to leave the party, so when we got home I stashed it on a chair in our dining room and it sat there for weeks, in full view. I forgot about it. Someone else didn’t.

Much to his credit, Toby never asked about that bag or its contents. He just lived his life in peaceful co-existence with it.

Then Easter rolled around. My husband is, shall we say, “thrifty.” He decided to cannibalize the green bag’s content to use as Easter basket goods for Toby. It contained a cute little toy pet carrier with a dog and cat in it and a Koosh ball. So he just plopped them down among the fishing supplies and jelly beans.

Toby was overjoyed with his Easter loot. He loved the fish hooks and powerbait. He adored the longhorn cow figurine to join his barnyard collection. And when he came across the toy pet carrier complete with tiny dog and cat, he exclaimed, “Oh good, this is just like the one in that green bag! Now I’ll have two!!!!”

Ba dum bum. Busted.

So now he keeps asking to have the damn matching toy from the green bag. I’ve successfully distracted him so far, but I don’t hold out hope that he’s ever going to give up on it. After all, this is a kid who tonight, on the way home from swimming lessons, just casually said to me, “Mom, do you remember that time I was done with swimming lessons and you and Dad were there but when I came out the door you weren’t there and it made me cry?” (We were talking and missed that his class was exiting the pool area. It took us approximately 10 seconds to get to the door.) AND THAT WAS TWO YEARS AGO. This is the only time I’ve heard of him remembering it. That nugget of guilt-induction has just been lingering in that brain.

So I imagine that at some point I’m going to have to come clean about the Easter re-gifting. Because he is Not. Going. To. Forget. Never try and outwit one of these mini-humans.

Either that, or he actually knows what we did and is just next-level evilly trolling us. Honestly, I wouldn’t put it past him. Just yesterday he said very quietly, “Where IS that green bag?”