My brother got married last weekend down in Santa Monica, and as is customarily the duty of a family member, and in this case best man(!), we packed up the kids and the nice clothes and flew South. The ceremony was great, the weather was fantastic, and the trip to Disneyland, while tiring, was rewarding.
But the Airport security...
Have they caught one person as a result of airpot security measures? At least they're not leaving any stone unturned, or foot unshod. My youngest daughter, the one in the picture of my profile, all of nine months and cute as a button, fell under the gaze of the man assessing potential threats.
"Stop." He said forcefully. "Take off her shoes."
Whose shoes, I briefly wondered. My wife and older daughter had already walked barefoot through the magic rectangle. I started again.
"The baby's shoes. Take them off!"
While I may have some big feet, you'd have been a packing wizard if you'd managed to fit a roll of dental floss in my baby's shoe-lets. Slippers really. Hardly even that.
I went and checked the TSA list of Prohibited and Permitted items. And while I found dynamite and hand grenades are in fact prohibited (I'll have to make sure my older daughter knows about that), I didn't see baby shoes.
He must have thought my nine-month old had Gel shoe inserts.