My good ol’ American can-do attitude trumped reason, and so I decided to travel across the world with my babies to attend my sister’s wedding. My husband could not leave our business and I wasn’t going to miss it! So began my worst travel horror story.
I understood that my little Perpetual Motion Machine would absolutely have to be tethered, dirty looks from parents notwithstanding. Getting through Heathrow Airport in London was a nightmare even without a toddler to keep track of. I strapped my baby girl to my front, attached the leash to my belt buckle, set my pace and got through with everybody intact.
The worst was yet to come. On the trans-atlantic flight my baby girl became upset, and nothing would calm her. I paced the aisles, enduring the annoyed stares of my bleary-eyed fellow passengers. The evening meal arrived, and I looked helplessly at my little boy, wondering how he would manage while I tried to calm his sister. Like an angel in heaven, a kindly stranger arrived at my side and said, “Can I help you?”
Ah, the relief! I set her to helping my son with his dinner, and soon my daughter was calm. As I took my seat, the flight attendant brought me two little bottles of wine without a word.
When we got to Grandma’s home in Seattle, she congratulated my son for being a trooper. He promptly collapsed into a puddle of tears.
I couldn’t have said it better!
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