The traveling man

J is a great little traveler. I never give him enough credit. Each trip we go on, I psych myself out; as if I'm bringing some caged lion onto the plane, hoping he won't escape. Yet, every flight we go on, the little human continues to do his thing: falls asleep.

Thank you for doing that son.

I don't know what it is, but without fail, he falls asleep as soon as we take off, generally staying in his nearly-unconscious state until landing. Just like that. I figure it's something about the wheels---once they leave the ground, he is out. Once they touch ground, he is up. Like clock work. Like no time has elapsed over this period of his life.

Good boy.

However, that is not to say that he does not give his momma a run for her money, before the plane takes off. Oh gosh. Why do we all board the plane, and sit and wait for half an hour? Don't you know that is child-torture? So much to do. So much to see. Urgh. The heart failure I allow myself to have, while containing said child, I'm sure will show it's effects later in life,when I die years before Chris... It's those ever-long minutes before take off, where it feels like every person inside of the plane is staring at me, trying to re-think why they had to buy that exact flight. Now they are stuck with Spawn. About that same time, I'm trying to flash my, "Oh, I so have this together" smile, sometimes even reassuring the on-lookers that, "I swear, he is so good! As soon as we take off....", and get cut off mid-sentence, trying to stop him from leaping over the front seat, or grabbing the water cup in the isle over.

Who's child is this anyway?

It's those exact moments, that I also rethink my good-boy-judgment, "Wait, does he really give up? Has he ever really slept on a plane before? There is no way this human is the same human as before. I must be joking... I. Am. In. Big. Trouble." What I'd like to do is set him in a seat, and walk away, so that I can stare at the deranged child, like everyone else, wondering why he just can't be contained. Instead of abandoning him for the never ending amount of time it takes a plane to take off, I use all my energy to not not curl up in a ball, and cry like a baby, swearing off Chris for not coming with me, leaving me to my airplane/toddler doom.

And then the plane takes off.

And I love my boy, all over again.