Joys of Travel

We had a pretty successful trip to visit Chris's family in Fort Myers, but so many moments of traveling with a toddler that just made me, in the words of a former co-worker, take, "deep yoga breathes," to maintain my sanity.
I think my all time favorite was having to put Sam's bottle into an airport security machine that tests for explosives.  I mean, I get it.  I know the age that we are living in, and the measures that are in place for our security and safety, but in the moment, I just had to laugh.  I probably did look like a crazy person, possibly an unsafe one, standing in front of the machine.
We got to security, juggling the baby, shoes, carry-ons, and pulling out the zip-lock baggies of things like extra milk (everything else got checked).  Meanwhile, we had to say, "bye-bye" to every item that we put onto the conveyer belt and assure Sam that it was okay to put things on it and that we would get them back.  At the same time, an overzealous security guard was barking orders at my husband about his laptop, belt, arrangement of items, and everything else.

"Butterfly the case.  NO!  Open it, open the case, secure the laptop in it, and butterfly it.  Take the laptop out.  Now put it back.  In the case.  Butterfly it.  Open the case.  Put the laptop in, secure it.  NO!  Unzip the case."  This was from the other side of the metal detector which meant the guard was essentially yelling, which Sam took as Chris getting in trouble.

So Sam's bottle has disappeared through the X-ray machine, the man is yelling, Sam is trying to jump out of my arms to run after his bottle, and I am trying to take my scarf off ("TOO Bulky!!!"), while holding/restraining Samm.
Finally Sam and I are allowed through the machine, Chris is sent back for more instructions, and as I start to breath normally, the bottle is confiscated.
Now Sam is starting to wail, since Daddy is back there, I am out here and the bottle is walking away with a stranger.  I also can't collect the items we have put through because I have to follow the bottle.
I'm barefoot, trying to watch my purse (still in the X-ray machine), hold the squirming baby, and seeing if Chris will ever make it through, when the (luckily) nice (female) security guard places Sam's bottle in this space age machine and presses a button.
Sam is whimpering and starting to cry more loudly (and we're now on day 4 of the croup, so crying is not helpful).
"Ohhh.... microwave bottle," I feebly tried to reassure Sam.
"NO MIC-RO-(W)AVE!!!"  Sam yelled.
I prayed this would be a quick process.  We watched the machine blink and blink and then a button lit up red and said something helpful like, "seek attention."  Crap.
"NO MICRO-AVE.  BOTTLE!!!!"
The security guard and I looked at the bottle in the machine which was now requiring higher powers.
She called over her supervisor.
"Umm, it's soy milk?" I helpfully offered.
"BOTTLE!!! MAMA, DADA!  DADA..." (clearly I was not effective enough for Sam in this situation).
They took the bottle out and reset the machine. They ran it again.  Visions of confiscated bottles flooded my mind (pouring out alcohol down drains when I was underage & caught.)
"He can drink it in front of you?" I asked.  The machine beeped and Sam yelled more loudly.
"BOTTLE!"
Finally Chris escaped as I was handed back the bottle, which apparently was no longer radioactive/explosive.  And we put ourselves back together, collected our belongings and headed on our way.  This was at 6:30 am on the way down.