This Friday I am flying to my hometown in Salt Lake City, Utah.
Pee-baby is coming with me.
That means 3 hours on a plane with a toddler.
Pre-motherhood, I HATED flying when kids were on the plane. HATED IT. Actually, now that I am a mother, I still hate it.
I always sat as far away as I could get from them. Kids were the plague to me.
I always packed a sturdy pair of earplugs and a backup pair in case of emergency. I would get so worked up if a kid even moved, let alone make any noise.
I would secretly trash talk them in my mind:
- How dare people think it's OK to bring their crying baby on a plane with 100 other people?
- Why is the 8 year old yelling? Did you really not bring anything for him to do? Not even a frieking coloring book? Really?
- I would love to read my awesome Kurt Vonnegut book, but I cant, because your kids are too ugly.
- Your 4 year old, with in-flight ADD, is pounding on the chair in front of him. If I was that person, I would bite him. Did you not even think to bring tranquilizers? (For the kid AND the dude sitting in front of him?)
- I hate your kid.
Now I am the culprit.
Ryan has been on a plane before but he was still a tiny baby and slept the whole time.
I have a feeling that will not be the case this time. I don't trust this kid for a minute:
Out of consideration for others I packed a bag of earplugs for my fellow passengers.
I plan on giving them an apology before the plane even takes off, then I will offer the earplugs. Hopefully they won't hate my guts at the end of the flight.
I bought a bunch of new toys, snacks, and a DVD player to keep him occupied. I will also firmly cross my fingers before I step on the plane.
I think I'm still going to bring kid tranquilizers.... just in case.