Chapter 12: “Ate like a horse—slept like a log."
After a family consult, everyone had concluded that it was better for Robin to be home for Thanksgiving, but to come as soon after the holiday as the traffic died down. It was Wednesday of the week after Thanksgiving, and Kermit, Fozzie and Sweetums were waiting anxiously for any sign of Robin at the teeming airport.
“I’m really glad Robin flew in before we left for Vegas,” Kermit said, craning his neck worriedly. “The Vegas airport is way too crowded.” He stood up on his tippy-toes. “Do you see him, Sweetums?”
“Not yet,” Sweetums said. “But I’m a-lookin.’”
And getting some very odd looks himself, Kermit wagered.
“Anything on your side, Fozzie?”
“No, no, no….” Fozzie said, counting off the passengers.
“Let me know if you see him,” Kermit interrupted. He craned his neck hopefully, searching for a small, green familiar figure.
They had a few more moments of suspense before Sweetums—who had the definite advantage of height—let out a great whoop (woot?) of triumph and slogged through the crowd to pluck Robin out of the midst of them.
“Sir!” a red-vested stewardess complained. “This young, um, man is meeting someone. You can’t just—“ She spied Kermit and smiled. “Hello, Mr. the Frog,” she said warmly. “I believe your expected passenger has arrived.”
“Thanks,” Kermit said gratefully. “Thanks a whole lot.” He leaned in, dropping his voice. “Was he okay on the plane?”
“Uncle Kermit!” Robin protested from atop Sweetums' shoulders, but the stewardess smiled and nodded.
“Ate like a, um, horse—slept like a log. No problems at all, sir.”
“Thank you,” Kermit said again. “Thanks so much.”
After stretching up to both give and receive a kiss from his nephew, Kermit steered their little party toward the luggage conveyers.
“Hey Uncle Kermit—can I ride on the conveyor belt and travel in the cargo hold on the way home?”
“Um, no, Robin—it’s not safe.”
“But you did it,” Robin protested.
Kermit looked at him in consternation. “I did?”
“He’s right,” Fozzie said solemnly. “We did that once.”
“What? Oh! Fozzie, that was a movie. Robin—that was just a movie—we didn’t actually ride in the cargo hold of an actual airplane.”
“Oh,” Robin said, clearly disappointed. “But you used a parachute,” he added hopefully.
“Well, yes,” Kermit admitted. “That part really happened.”
“I can’t always keep track,” Fozzie murmured.
“Oh,” Robin said again, thinking hard. “Could I do that?”
“Um, maybe sometime, Robin, but right now we’ve got to get your luggage. Everybody’s anxious to see you—we’ve got your room all ready.”
“Did Aunt Piggy bake some of those cookies I like?”
Kermit and Fozzie exchanged looks. “Well,” Kermit hedged, “I think I did see some of those cookies at the house.”
“Yippee!” Robin said. “Can I jump on the bed in my room? Can I swim in the pool tonight? Do I have to take a bath if I go swimming? Can I keep a cookie under my pillow in case I get hungry in the middle of the night. Is there still a night-light in my room, because I’m too old for a night-light now.”
“My head hurts,” Fozzie whispered, and Kermit grunted happily in response.
They were at the luggage carousel now, and Robin—with a bird’s eye (er, frog's eye) view—pointed his luggage out the second it appeared. Sweetums swooped in, gathered it in one huge hand and they were heading for home.
Sitting in the back of the car, Kermit put his arm around Robin, who alternated between leaning against his uncle and craning to look out the window and commenting on absolutely everything he saw. Bemused, Kermit smiled. It was easy to forget how high-energy Robin could be.
The travel took its toll, however, and Robin was fast asleep by the time they reached home. Although tempted to carry him in and put him right to bed, Kermit did not wish to be awakened at two in the morning by a refreshed and re-energized little frog. Gently, he shook Robin awake and, after a few sleepy moments, Robin vaulted out of the car and into Piggy’s waiting arms for a split-second hug before bounding in the door. While Sweetums put the car away, Kermit, Piggy and Fozzie trailed into the house.
Robin could be heard clearly from his first-floor bedroom, commenting on the new television set in his room, the view from his window, the bounciness of his bed and the amount of closet space he had. Kermit smiled. It was easy to forget the wonder of everyday things when you were constantly surrounded by them, but Robin always reveled in his time away from the swamp. Like his uncle, there was more than a dash of wanderlust in his makeup, and he enjoyed taking in every new experience that came his way.
“Francois is putting the finishing touches on dinner,” Piggy said. “I’ll go make sure everything is ready.”
“We’ll wash up,” Kermit said, corralling Robin and steering him toward the sink. “C’mon, Fozzie,” Kermit said.
Fozzie looked up hopefully. “Oh—I wasn’t going to stay….” He began, his eyes wistful, but Kermit grabbed his arm and pulled him after him.
“Don’t be ridiculous, Fozzie,” Kermit said sternly. “Of course you’re staying. You’re family.”
“And families have to stick together—no matter what!” Robin piped up.
“Yeah,” Kermit said firmly. “No matter what.”
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