Sky High Baby

Before I became a mother, I wasn’t a big fan of kids. Well, perhaps that is a little extreme. It’s not that I disliked kids, I think it was more the parents that I disliked because they were the ones allowing little Junior to run amok. Take flying for example. I loathed getting on a plane with kids especially infants. They scream and cry the entire time and would push me to the point of jabbing out my eardrums. I never said anything to the parents, but I must admit I did think some un-Christian like thoughts about the them. Not cool, I know!

So, when Davey’s first plane ride came up, I tried to stay positive and hoped that the people on our planes were not like me pre-baby. I was worried, mind you, considering the fact that the weather wasn’t exactly acceptable for flying and we were under a high-wind advisory. I spent the good portion of my day at work, biting off my nails and trying to calm my anxious stomach as I thought about the fact that we may be stuck on the plane on the tarmac for hours while the winds died down. When my husband finally picked me up, I put on my best poker face and hoped that my son would not sense my anxiety.

Fortunately, our plane left on time and the best part…my son slept the entire first leg of our journey!!!! And as a matter of fact, while my husband and I sat in our seats on the plane while everyone else de-boarded, comments were tossed around by our fellow passengers about how good Davey was and that they never knew a baby was on board. I smiled like a proud mother and thanked everyone like I had just won the mother of the year award. Of course, I did give my child his proper credit, perhaps not in front of everyone. I was even willing to share my baby-whisperer trophy with him.

The next three hours found us sitting in Charlotte with a lay over and once again I was forced into a state of anxiety as I wondered how Davey would do during our wait and then on the final leg of our journey. Oh ye of little faith I am, I know. Needless to say, my worries were unfounded and my son is a professional flyer. And not only that, he also holds the gold medal in the sport of people watching in the inaugural Baby Olympics. He sat and watched with much fascination all the passengers as they exited the planes and walked through the terminal. He even managed to draw in a few awes and smiles from our fellow flyers as he attempted to engage them in conversation. I know, such a precocious little one I have.

The second part of our flight, my child slept once again and there was peace in the land of flyers at least for the night.


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