Friday, November 14, 2014

Da Plane

All our flights were Delta, so I think it's okay I use this pic.
I recently remembered a promise I made, to you my sweet Internet. A promise to share our experience bringing Mr. Man on a plane. It's been weeks and I haven't followed through! My name is Shame.

So here's what went down (and up).

Prior to the big day, we talked a lot about planes. You know what we do on a plane? We sit on mama's lap. That's right.

Mr. Man was already very interested in planes when they were overhead, and became more interested when I showed him some YouTube videos. For several days he "flew" everything while exclaiming "Da!" and making swoosh noises. Let me translate for you: "Look Mother, I am pretending that this carrot/sock/sippy is a plane flying through the sky overhead! It is making plane-appropriate noises!"

We bought him a plane toy; mostly my husband played with it while Mr. Man flew various blocks and items of clothing around the room.

We talked more about how we would get on the plane and sit on mama's lap the whole time.

On the big day, we let Mr. Man carry his two favorite stuffed toys in a tiny backpack through the airport. He and all the observing adults thought it was great. At each airport we found little cul-d-sacs to let Mr. Man run around in and burn off energy. We brought out new plane and helicopter toys, which he enjoyed flying. We pointed through the airport windows at the planes. And we answered 1 bazillion questions from amused onlookers about Mr. Man's age/previous flight experience (none)/ability to run non-stop/ability to (mostly) stay near his parents. Basically he was the entertainment.

Aside from pooping his pants 1 minute before we boarded(like every time the kid did this), requiring us to ramp up our NASCAR pit crew skills, we had no problems*.

*I promise to never reference NASCAR again. Sorry.

During takeoff we nursed and no one even seemed to notice. Of course, I had anticipated this and wore clothes that made nursing easy (meaning I spent an embarrassing amount of time practicing whipping my boobs out of potential outfits in front of my mirror at home). Mr. Man slept 3.5 out of 4 flights. We changed one wet diaper on our laps because drink carts were blocking the bathrooms and we weren't even sure there was a changing station there and whatever, it wasn't that big of a deal; as in no one was sitting near us and it was dark and nobody noticed that we were doing it.

I had packed SO MANY snacks and needed very few of them. With the notable exception of my boobs.

That's pretty much it. Sorry that I don't have any horror stories to share**.

**TOTALLY not sorry.