“Is this really happening, Mom?” Toby whispered that night, his voice full of excitement as we packed his small backpack. “Is Dad really not going to know?”
“He has no idea,” I promised him, zipping up his bag. “It is our special mission.”
To my son, this secret was the greatest responsibility he had ever been trusted with. He packed his bright red headphones, an unopened bag of gummy bears, and a colorful drawing he had spent two full hours making at the kitchen table. It showed a large blue jet soaring above fluffy white clouds, with bold letters carefully written across the top.
“Look what I wrote, Mom!” Toby said proudly, holding the paper up to my face. “It says BEST PILOT EVER.”
“He is going to love that so much,” I said, kissing his forehead as he carefully folded the paper and tucked it into his front pocket.
