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Taming the In-Flight Temper Tempest
– or Not.
On what was intended to be a most wonderful whim, Skye and I were headed to marvelous Milano for Fall Fashion Week 2008. It was to be the most flawless flight in the very history of toddler-toting travel, for I had calculated with extraordinary precision the minutes of occipital-lobe occupation required for our paired peregrination.
My monstrosity of a Mia Bossi bag filled with a totally unprecedented selection of 11 toys to be rationed out at the rate of exactly one per hour? Check.
An utterly incalculable supply of a certain O-shaped cereal, granola bars and carrot sticks? Done.
Puh-lenty of petty cash for drink rounds sent like liquid olive branches to neighboring passengers should the going get a tad tough? Check!
Therefore: Awesome new toys x 11 + Snacks galore + Cash-laden pocketbook = Exemplary Globe-Trottin' Tot Times.
A necessarily true equation, right? Wrong. And how.
No one, but no one, could have calculated the math of my Skye's mega-meltdown, situated squarely in the center of traversing the second-largest body of water when it went down.
Not the plane, but … almost.
And then, it was over. Just like that, Skye was out. Soon thereafter, we landed. There I was in exquisite, irresistible and irrepressibly romantic Italy, with the littlest love of my life dreaming upon my lap, and the stress of Skye's screaming temper tantrum evanesced entirely, giving way to one of the most sybaritic experiences of our lives.
Yes, Mamas, taking your tots along for the ride next time will certainly prove worthwhile, even if getting there isn't half the fun.
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