You may remember that last month I talked about the trip that Addie and I took to New England and how the flight there was an awful experience.  I may have said that I would NEVER EVER EVER fly with her as a lap baby again and our relationship may never be the same because of all of the emotional scarring that occurred at 35,000 feet.  And then I think talked a little bit about how she spent the entire seven days of our trip on a hunger strike in protest of having to sit on my lap for four hours on an airplane.  And she was good at it, that hunger strike.  I think she may have a future in social activism sixteen years from now when she gets to the hippie liberal college of her choosing.

Yesterday Scott and Addie and I flew from Houston to Boston for a visit with my family.  I, apparently, am not one who practices what she preaches or learns from her mistakes.  Addison flew as a lap baby again – on a full flight.  This time she was all happy baby squeals and sleepy smiles.  As I’ve said every time I’ve flown with her over the past 18 months: every flight is a completely different experience.  I truly never know what to expect when getting on a plane with Addison.  There is no magic toy that wards off temper tantrums, there’s no routine to ensure she sleeps or stays calm.  There is nothing.  Just a prayer and maybe a little Benadryl.  I think that having her Daddy in the seat next to her rather than an annoyed hipster who just wants to listen to her (obviously) superior music and catch a nap, made a big difference too.  Addie slept for the first half of the flight and again in the car on the ride home from the airport.

On our last visit when we arrived at my sister’s house Addie hid behind my legs and cried when anyone new walked through the door.  That meant as each of the four children came home from school there was a new round of tears and clinging to my jeans.  And then there was the hunger strike that lasted until she was free to see her Dad and her dog again.  This time around, Addie was holding her cousins hands and bossing them around within ten minutes of us dropping our bags.  Not only did she eat a full chicken dinner last night, she drank all of her milk and slept for eleven hours.  Scott commented yesterday that I must have been making up all of the horror stories from our trip last month.  I don’t know who this child is, but I sure would like to travel with her more often.

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