Airplane Travel, Mom Humor

Airplane Travel with Baby (insert nervous shudder here)


Before we reach our gate, everyone looks at Hudson with goo-goo baby eyes, and comments on how adorable he is. ‘Thank you.’ (smile) ‘Thank you.’ (smile) ‘If you think he’s so adorable would you mind holding him while I go pee?’ (smile) Everything is hunky dory until we arrive at our gate, and post up on twice as many seats as we have people; we have a lot of stuff, we’re traveling with a baby. The mood suddenly shifts, and we’re met with tense facial expressions and ‘Oh, well isn’t he cute.’ (grimace) These people are TERRIFIED that his current chilled out mood is just the calm before the storm. I think these fellow flyers would rather the plane go through a literal storm, than our baby let out a thunderous downpour of hysterics, when we’re all a mile high and trapped.

Hudson can read the room. He gives me a mischievous grin and let’s out a piercing screech, that he recently taught himself. He’s not upset, he’s just letting people know that he’s not just a pretty face, oh no, he has opinions too, and loud ones. The screech elicits even more tight-lipped smiles from everyone in our eye line; everyone else is rolling their eyes and silently grumbling to their travel companion, wondering if it’s too late to change planes.

Right on cue, Huddy let’s one rip. I wouldn’t even call this a ‘toot’, it registered as a TEN on the juicy baby fart scale. This was not a noisy, but scent-less, release of air; no, this was a vertigo inducing big poop precursor. ‘Please poop before we get on the plane.’ ‘Please poop before we get on the plane.’ ‘Please poop before we get on the plane.’

Luckily, Hudson’s pre-diaper-blow-out blowout released some tension, and his mind was free to focus on non-fussy activities. He set his sights on the pretty lady with glasses two seats away, peacefully reading her book. He shimmied off my lap, and sat for a moment, taking in her awesomeness, or maybe contemplating how he was going to get those glasses off her face. He then sauntered, on all fours, over to her feet, and let out his cutest ‘coo.’ She looked down, smiled, and went back to her book. One smile was not going to please her newly devoted fan; he wanted more. He tapped on her foot and let out a ‘coo-screech.’ Still cute, but on the verge of annoying (to everyone but this adoring mama.) Ms. Red Shirt and Glasses then set her book down, and spoke some baby talk to him. He was impressed, ‘She speaksa meh language.’ He then dropped his most bewitching flirty baby smile on her, and I swear, she almost gave him her glasses. This kid is good.

Before he could grasp her glasses, and commence Mission ‘Snap These Glasses in Half,’ his adoration was suddenly diverted, when a giant shiny metal bird rolled by the huge windows. ‘WHAT is THAT.’ ‘Me want, now.’ He then speed crawled so fast towards the window, his legs progressed faster than his arms, and he was faced with three face plants (pun intended.) When he finally made it to the great see-through divider, he smacked his noggin against this invisible force field, not yet understanding the concept of an invisible barrier; Hudson, and birds. After his collision, a menacing looking purple welt formed on his forehead. I held my breath in anticipation of the incoming non-flirty, ear-ringing, screech. But, it never came, he shook it off, literally, made a little ‘ugh’ peep, and continued scrutinizing this bird plane with wide-eyed fascination. Should I be worried that my child is not the least bit concerned with what I consider cringe worthy head injuries? We’ll ponder that question on another post.

It was then time to board. I strapped my little screeching scrutinizer to my chest, and Eric and I began the process of piling ourselves with all our “necessary” stuff. We boarded the plane, and received genuine ‘aw what a cute baby’ smiles from all the first class passengers; they knew they would likely be far and away from any boisterous baby babbles, or odors, once we exited their premier cabin, and they received their complimentary alcoholic beverage/s of choice. However, the next batch of folks held their breath as we walked by, praying that we would not be the occupants of the spare seats in front of them. We were not, until we reached the folks that we were sitting in front of.

Well, Hudson spent a few minutes checking out the busy bees outside the tiny windows, made a miniscule ruckus, nursed, and fell asleep; for the ENTIRE plane ride. HALLELUJAH! HALLELUJAH! Our early flight check-in and amiable cooperation with TSA must have pleased the airplane Gods. Now pass me a non-complimentary cocktail, my baby is asleep!


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