...And other lies I tell myself about being on a plane with a 9-month old.
This trip was completely different from any I've ever taken before. It used to be that a cross-country flight was an opportunity to catch up on reading - both gossip magazines and 'serious' books alike. I could crochet or knit while watching whatever romantic comedy was showing; to be honest, I'm not sure if I'd know who Hugh Grant is where it not for the in-flight movie. All-in-all the flyng BC (Before Child) was a bit of forced (albeit cramped) relaxation.
But a flight with a 9-month old, even an amazingly well-mannered, and happy one, leaves barely enough time for a bathroom break let alone "craft time." The best I was able to do was play Mahjong on the little seat monitor in front of me, with my one free hand, during his occasional naps.
Am I complaining? of course not. The little guy was a dream on the plane - and we're talking about confined space with a baby who generally wants nothing more than to crawl around and explore - so a trek from San Francisco to New York is no small feat.
