My teenager, on the other hand, is very Zen at the airport. He raises his eyebrows at my excessive worrying. I can suddenly see myself through his eyes, needlessly anxious, absurdly concerned with trivial and fabricated timelines, expending unnecessary energy on pointless things.
His way of moving through the airport seems preferable, wearing headphones, gliding indifferently, even if there is the slightest chance that, left to his own devices, he would miss a flight.
My son has perfected that look of pure contempt that may be familiar to parents of teens. The recipient of this look, which I think may exclusively be me, has no real choice but to wither obligingly into nothingness. This look often comes because I have said something mean about someone or gossiped in an unkind but maybe funny way.
I do think that my son will probably become more tolerant, more forgiving of my character flaws, when he is older, but maybe I could borrow a little of that excessive moral clarity and disapproval teenagers are known for.