Under the Eye of the Fox

My eight year old loves foxes. So on a trip at the start of summer, as we approached our Frontier Airlines gate, he was thrilled.

“My first time with a fox on the tail!”

But our gate had changed. We were flying on Mickey the Moose’s plane.

Later, as we suffered through a white-knuckle descent in windy skies over Washington, DC, he looked out the window. “It looks like the wings are going to brake off.” Pause. “Mom, if we crash, and I survive, you know what I’m going to say?”

“What?”

“I knew we should have flown the fox’s plane.”

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