Traveling with a small child is always an adventure of its own. So between air travel, time differences, and getting a kid to sleep in a strange place with scary dog monsters, the Christmas trip to California was filled with....entertainment. Entertainment for those hearing about it after the fact, that is.
Let's start with the flight on the way over. It seemed promising. Pulled out from the gate exactly at departure time (Poker Chick speaks the truth!). Took off exactly 5 minutes later (are we still in America?) and the mini was shockingly well-behaved the entire flight.
Until we began our descent. About 5 seconds after they announced everyone had to stay in their seats for landing, the mini announces to the entire 25th row: "I have to make a poopy!" But she wanted to behave and understood she needed to wait until we landed. She was a trooper. She did the dance, wiggled like a worm, reminded me often, but she waited. And then...finally....we landed.
And then....we sat on the runway. And sat. And sat some more.
You see, the state of affairs in the American air-travel system has deteriorated so much we are no longer equipped to handle flights that actually land on time. So the captain announced we needed to wait until they found an open jetway for us. It would only be 5 minutes.
Until it was 10 minutes. And 15. And 20. By this point, the mini was frustrated and yelling her head off, the DVD batteries had long died, all the coloring book pages were filled and I had run out of stalling tactics. I also could not figure out how you could do a time-out when you were already strapped into your seat. There was no way around it. The kid had to poop, and she couldn't wait anymore. After staying in one seat for 6 straight hours my kid was entitled to her business.
So I made a run for it.
I undid our seat belts, and ran us both to the bathroom and slammed the door, pretending not to hear the flight attendant "Miss, you need to return back to your seat, the captain cannot move the plane until...". Yeah, right lady! You guys have held hostage on this plane. My 2-year old isn't buying it. Why don't you make yourself useful and you go poop it up with my kid so I can keep my seat belt on?! Yeah. That's what I thought.
I'm trying to hurry and after covering the seat with a half-roll of TP (neurotic mother here), I pulled down the pull-ups and plopped the kid on the seat. She dawdled and made faces and finally smiled and said "I don't have to make a poopy anymore". Arghhhh!!!!! Let's pause to share Poker Chick's frustration. Or at least imagine it.
Ok let's continue. We could've just gone right back but of course she just had to put her hands inside the toilet. So then we still had to wash our hands. And my kid hates washing her hands. Then I had to coerce her to pull her pants back up. Take a wild guess how much she loves doing that too?
Actual size of airplane bathroom, to scale.
10 minutes later we returned from our wasted trip. I get our seat belts back on and the plane begins taxiing to the gate. What does the mini say? Yep, you guessed it: "Mommy, I have to make a poopy now."
This is the part of the story when you slap your hand on your forehead and shake your head no, peeps. Noooo, make it stop....
For those of you interested in following this theme of "adventures in poop" all the way through, you'll be please to know that the mini went 4 times on the trip back. Sadly they were, as the mini correctly pointed out, the "messy" "stinky" kind.