Trip

Hubby is asleep across the aisle. I sit between my little munchkins, one incessantly crying from his increased ear pressure, the other with a nervous kicking tick that just irked the seat occupant in front of him so much that he turned around and scolded my 4 year old. I sit there shocked as the man ignored my glare and quickly turned back around. I felt like launching him across the plane with my all-conference soccer foot. I agree it's annoying but you talk to ME, not a little boy who hums every time he eats without even realizing it. He's FOUR, it is like a reflex to him, BUDDY.

I turn to concentrate on the little one, who doesn't understand that the milk I am holding will help him pop his ears. In between his shrieks, I try to be calm and soothing. "Please drink this little one! When you swallow it, it will make your ears feel better." He glances at the cup through tear filled eyes. I nod encouragingly. He holds the cup up and with one movement, tries to pour the milk down his ear canal. "Feels better" he says, milk bubbling out of his ear and down his face.

And so it goes for hours on end.

That was the trip TO Grenada.

Naturally, I was not looking forward to the trip home - again, the 12 hours of traveling on two planes landing in two countries with two young children. You can imagine my horror when all of my nightmares about this trip were completely (gasp) unrealized. I have never had a more enjoyable traveling experience. The boys were just darlings.

In the wee hours, they awoke in sleepy-cute instead of crazy-crabby mode. In the airport, my hubby and I got our last iced blended spiced chai smoothie for breakfast. They didn't throw a fit that we got them milk instead. They took turns sitting on the luggage quietly as we waited in the check-in line for over an hour. They each pulled a suitcase taller than they were. They went through security shoe-less, with hardly a squeal. They each had a window seat for the flight to Puerto Rico, though little one didn't open the window shade. He said it was scary. In the busy San Juan airport, they called each other "my brother" and held hands as we walked to our connecting gate. On the second plane, my little one let my oldest have the window seat with only a little fuss after I reminded him that he had a belly button (distraction, distraction, distraction). We kept them fed. Kicking feet stayed gloriously to themselves, snackage was shared between them, drinks went down the proper holes, and the window shade stayed up for Mommy to watch from the aisle seat.

Mommy bliss.