I used to love flying. I imagine that someday in the future (retirement) I will again enjoy flying. But until then, air travel has become one of the most dreaded events that I face. You’ve probably guessed why this change has occured. It’s all due to a little cutie-pie named Jimmy. The last time that we flew (two months ago) it actually went really well, but I still anxiously await this next trip. There’s a 99% chance that he’s going to fall asleep right after the plane takes off, but it’s the 1% possibility of 4 hours of screaming Jimmy that causes me to waste energy on worrying beforehand. I’m not afraid of what other passengers would think (like I’ll ever see any of them again), but I feel sorry for my tired little guy who just wants to sleep, but can’t. Really, it’s not even the actual flying that’s a problem. The difficult part is driving in to the airport, waiting to check in, waiting to get bags checked, waiting in the line for security, waiting for the plane to board, waiting, waiting, waiting… Meanwhile my precious angel is getting more an more tired (and overstimulated, thanks to the overabundance of sights and sounds in an airport). I honestly just feel really bad for the little guy. The solution? Make the best of it, because as of yet, no one has invented a human teleporter.

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