Last weekend I did something I haven't done in years and actually parked the car at the airport and waited in Arrivals to pick someone up.
That someone was my 5-year-old nephew Jake - and his mum, of course - who was not only making his first visit to Auckland from Wellington, but was taking his first of what I hope is many rides on a plane.
It was a lot of fun watching the reactions as the travellers appeared at the top of the stairs, with one little girl so happy to see her father she clung to him like a baby koala, and the reunion of a nana and her granddaughter so moving I felt a bit teary.
When I locked eyes with my own little guy, he beamed from ear to ear while holding tight to his mum's hand, then told me he'd found the flight "fun but a bit boring". Wait till you fly to Europe, buddy.
For the next day and a half I became a tourist in my own city as we crammed in as much as we could: a couple of brilliant hours at Butterfly Creek, a ride up the Sky Tower, and a morning at the always excellent Kelly Tarlton's (sharks and penguins are so hot right now).
A little over 24 hours later at the airport it was a different story, with both of us bawling our eyes out as he and his mum disappeared into the security queue.
