After the tears at the security line, I get a call half hour later:
O: Mommy, there are a lot of planes here at the airport. Look, I see one in the air.
Me: What colors are they.
O: This one is white. I don’t know which one is our plane. I don’t think it’s here yet.
Me: I’m sure it will get there [UPDATE: it actually doesn’t, but that is not O’s problem. That is Grandma and Papa’s problem.]
O: Grandma, got me cookies. Ok, bye!
I guess the tears where bought away by cookies!