I have no time, really none, to write this post. But if I don’t get back on the proverbial horse, then…..well, I won’t be on the horse.
I was just inspired by reading a truly good Blog about travelling with a very small child. Or a very big baby. Or just a pint-sized ball of terror/energy/kisses.
So here it is, folks. I am overworked up the wazzoo, which is why I haven’t written anything in two months. I have a book review due on Sunday that still scares the bejeezus out of me, mostly because I think that the author’s school of thought is neo-Malthusian structuralism. Try to Wiki that… Not to mention the fact that in order to write a five-page paper, my most logical course of action is to summarize (précis) the book. All 600 pages of it, including odd calculus-based curves that track GNPs translated into wheat-purchase-power, alongside population growth and, uh, land use?
And in spite of the fact that I should be reading more about the failure of the tax structure in 18th century France, I am blogging to get one thing off of my chest:
I am terrified of flying with my son.
There, I said it. He is wonderful, smart and charming. But he also has very impressive lung power, is reluctant to sleep, and really likes climbing things. And all of that, including the physical discomfort of having him on my lap for a dozen or so hours, is minor compared with my discomfort when facing that utter disdain with which I know I will be greeted
by my fellow passengers.
And now, to top it off, I’m scared that the flight attendants will remove me for “security concerns” if Little N loses it for a minute, or if I do something really objectionable like ask for a bottle of water when we’re stuck on the tarmac or take him for a walk up and down the aisles in the hopes that he will fall asleep while in motion. Because, if various news sources are to be believed, its happened before.
I was just inspired by reading a truly good Blog about travelling with a very small child. Or a very big baby. Or just a pint-sized ball of terror/energy/kisses.
So here it is, folks. I am overworked up the wazzoo, which is why I haven’t written anything in two months. I have a book review due on Sunday that still scares the bejeezus out of me, mostly because I think that the author’s school of thought is neo-Malthusian structuralism. Try to Wiki that… Not to mention the fact that in order to write a five-page paper, my most logical course of action is to summarize (précis) the book. All 600 pages of it, including odd calculus-based curves that track GNPs translated into wheat-purchase-power, alongside population growth and, uh, land use?
And in spite of the fact that I should be reading more about the failure of the tax structure in 18th century France, I am blogging to get one thing off of my chest:
I am terrified of flying with my son.
There, I said it. He is wonderful, smart and charming. But he also has very impressive lung power, is reluctant to sleep, and really likes climbing things. And all of that, including the physical discomfort of having him on my lap for a dozen or so hours, is minor compared with my discomfort when facing that utter disdain with which I know I will be greeted
by my fellow passengers.And now, to top it off, I’m scared that the flight attendants will remove me for “security concerns” if Little N loses it for a minute, or if I do something really objectionable like ask for a bottle of water when we’re stuck on the tarmac or take him for a walk up and down the aisles in the hopes that he will fall asleep while in motion. Because, if various news sources are to be believed, its happened before.
Last year: If only it was always this easy
There are no words of comfort, I think, that will reduce my trepidation in the coming weeks before we are set to go on vacation. Even neo- Malthusian structuralism and French tax history seem appealing in comparison to the Flights.
Instead, I will include a brief travelers’ prayer. To be read responsively by both parents prior to flight.
Oh Divine Divinity
Make the plane fly fast.
Give me roomy bulkhead seats
Don’t make me get off last.
Oh Divine Divinity
Let us all fall asleep
From London through to Washington
Without nary a peep.
Oh Divine Divinity
Let OJ flow like wine
Let there be an extra meal
So L’il N don’t eat mine
Oh Divine Divinity
Let others cast not stares
Nor grimaces nor hateful gripes
Whispered asides and glares
Because, Divine Divinity
They too were once young kids
You want to claim you never cried?
I’ll bet on it you did.
I swear, Divine Divinity
I’d rather take a train
But you went and made the oceans
And so I’m stuck on this plane.
In short, mighty Divinity
Pretty please, answer this prayer
Divert the yells, the cries and poop
Until we’ve landed there.
Instead, I will include a brief travelers’ prayer. To be read responsively by both parents prior to flight.
Oh Divine Divinity
Make the plane fly fast.
Give me roomy bulkhead seats
Don’t make me get off last.
Oh Divine Divinity
Let us all fall asleep
From London through to Washington
Without nary a peep.
Oh Divine Divinity
Let OJ flow like wine
Let there be an extra meal
So L’il N don’t eat mine
Oh Divine Divinity
Let others cast not stares
Nor grimaces nor hateful gripes
Whispered asides and glares
Because, Divine Divinity
They too were once young kids
You want to claim you never cried?
I’ll bet on it you did.
I swear, Divine Divinity
I’d rather take a train
But you went and made the oceans
And so I’m stuck on this plane.
In short, mighty Divinity
Pretty please, answer this prayer
Divert the yells, the cries and poop
Until we’ve landed there.
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