I’m special.

Today is my birthday. I’ve lived for a whole quarter of a century. Old, I know. Do you want to know another thing I know? I’ll tell you.

I’m special.

How do I know this? I’ll tell you that, too.

When we were lifting off from Istanbul Rachel got rather curious about the flight attendants. Their jump seats were in view of our seats so Rachel could see how different they were from our seats. She had a lot of questions about that. Their seatbelts were also different. She had a lot of questions about that, too. She’s reached that stage where she has questions about everything. Unfortunately I don’t have answers for everything but, following the footsteps of my mother and her mother before her and all mothers throughout time, I’m getting pretty good at making up answers on the spot.

For some reason our flight attendants had five-point harnesses on their seats while we lowly passengers were stuck with mere lap belts.

“Why are they sitting there?” Rachel asked.

“Because the pilot told them to because we’re taking off.”

“Oh. Why aren’t their seats there all the time?”

“Because sometimes they are up moving around the plane and they don’t want to take up too much leg room so they fold up their seats when they aren’t using them.”

“Oh. Why do they have straps on their shoulders?”

“To help keep them safe.”

“Well, I want to be safe. Why don’t I have straps on my shoulders?”

“Because only they have straps on their shoulders.”

“Oh. Why? Why don’t we? How come only they get them?”

“Because they’re special.”

“Hmmm…well, why don’t you have them, then? You should!”

“Why?”

“Because you’re special, Mommy.”

Obviously.

And that’s why I have children—to remind me that I’m special.