We approach the stack of bins and both girls promptly drop to the ground, grappling with their shoes. I no longer have to tell them what to do. Two little pairs of shoes plunk into the gray plastic tray and they're shrugging off their jackets.
Moments later they are standing in front of the metal detector, waiting to be waived through by the TSA agent who is beaming at them, delighted for once to be facing adorable half-pints thrilled to be there instead of impatient business travelers just bored with the whole process.
"This is my favorite part!" My five-year-old says to me, eyes bright with excitement.
"What? Coming to the airport?" I ask, assuming that she's talking about the overall trip.
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