When we first started planning our family trip to Kauai, my biggest worry was getting there. A 5 1/2 hour flight with a four-year old and a five-month old is not what I would call a good time. But the promise of fruity, alcohol-filled drinks and a week of no appointments was too enticing. We would brave the plane. And if it went horribly, which was almost guaranteed, I would never see any of those plane people again. I crossed my fingers that nothing YouTube-worthy would occur and the trip was booked.
David is a pretty adventurous kid and was excited to go on a plane ride. Benjamin is a self-consumed baby whose only desire in life is to have me hold him every moment of his life. Score for them both! We left for the airport at 4:30 in the morning but since neither of my kids sleep, they were wide awake and raring to go when the cab showed up. Who knew sleep deprivation had an upside?
Our first flight was a quick 24 minutes to Los Angeles, a nice warmup before the extended jaunt over the Pacific Ocean. As we sat on the runway waiting for take-off David looked at me and said, “no more airplane. Let’s go home now.” Oh shit. Thankfully, the plane started moving and as the G forces glued him to his seat, David started grinning.
Once in the air, I started to relax. Benni was sleeping away on my lap and David seemed to be adjusting to life at 3000 ft. And then David said, “momma the plane is going to crash into the ocean!” He slammed his hands together and then said “Ahhhh!” as he fluttered his finger-people towards their watery demise. “Ah, haha!” I said, flattening his hands into his lap, “no honey, don’t be silly.” I glanced around at the other passengers, hoping none were planning a vigilante attack on my son. It seems David has inherited my ability to say the most inappropriate thing in any given situation. He repeated the crash, ahh! gestures a few more times before I distracted him with a blueberry muffin.
Once in LAX, we refueled with croissant sandwiches since Burger King was the only option. David, who hasn’t eaten gluten in six months, was extra energized by his breakfast and proceeded to have a one-sided ninja fight with himself complete with summersaults and dramatic facial expressions. As I watched him dart back and forth running from imaginary enemies, I was thankful for the two hour layover.
By the time our next flight was boarding, David’s gluten-high had worn off and I had cajoled Benni back to sleep with some bouncing and repeated refrains of Hide Your Love Away. This was as good as it was going to get. As we squished into our undersized seats, my husband and I shared a glance of commiseration. For better or worse we were in this thing together and that made the next six hours seem not so scary.
And then the unbelievable happened; for the entire flight both of my children behaved like absolute saints. Not a cry, complaint, or inappropriate exclamation was heard. I do owe Steve Jobs and any other technological geniuses responsible for the iPad a huge thanks on this one. Seriously, how did people travel with kids before Angry Birds? As we landed in Kauai I looked out the window at the lush landscape and thought, this was totally worth it.