I love to travel. I also have a baby. This last summer, I didn’t get to do much traveling, although that wasn’t the baby’s fault completely. My husband is working hard at building his new business and we just didn’t have a lot of extra time.
The point is, we realized we had a plane ticket voucher that was about to expire in September and we thought, why not just take our baby on a plane? We chose North Carolina, where my oldest brother lives, as our destination, booked the tickets, packed a couple suitcases, and headed out.
It was a good decision.
Yes, it was a little bit difficult lugging around a car seat and stroller so that we’d be able to transport him safely when we got to North Carolina. Yes, it was a pain taking the extra time to have breastmilk examined by security; although, it was kind of neat having our baby as an excuse to break the liquid rule. I don’t know why. It just made me feel like a bad mama-jama. Privileges, am I right?
But, it was also neat having our carry-on bags checked for free by the nice lady at the gate who took one look at us struggling to dig out our boarding passes while one of us held the baby and the other was trying to fold up the stroller, so she asked if wanted our bags checked for free to our final destination. Why yes. Yes we do.
I was sure that our happy and charming baby might even score us some first-class seats, and, although that didn’t happen, he did charm all of our neighbors on the plane with his non-stop smiles after they all looked at us in terror when they first sat next to us. Because we were those people with the baby on the plane. I’ve looked at them in terror myself in the past. And we didn’t bring goodie bags for everyone around us to apologize in advance for his potential crying. (If you haven’t seen that online, it’s a thing!) While I’m not opposed to a little bribery and buttering up, let’s be honest here – we barely even made it to the airport in time. Goodie bags are beyond my level of organization when I’m getting up at 3 a.m.
We had a wonderful long weekend in North Carolina. My brother was a great host and our baby was a champ. He got to spend time with his cousins; we went to museums, to breweries (where he charmed a table full of ladies with more smiles), and on a two-mile hike. He tagged along cheerfully everywhere we went. He conquered all four flights with a couple naps and a lot of milk.
Technically, he’s been on a plane before. In fact, when my husband and I went on our “babymoon” last Christmas to Mexico, it was on the plane that I first felt him kick. At first I thought I might be imagining the tiny flutter that I felt, but as the flutters continued, by the end of the trip I just knew it was him.
I guess he likes traveling too.