Sam and I are getting on an airplane tomorrow to go to Traverse City for a few days. Sam is a seasoned flyer at the tender age of ten months, and all the trips have gone very well so far. Here’s the thing. Sam’s not a lump anymore. He’d rather be walking than sitting, and if he can’t walk, then he’d like to crawl, please and thank you. So now imagine him on a plane, in a little seat, pulling the glasses off the stranger sitting next to him with his sticky saliva-covered fingers. Not pleasant. Especially for our poor seat mate. I hope-hope-hope that the person I sit next to is a baby-lover. As for me, I will be armed with Cheerios, books, and shiny apologies. Just in case.
So, here’s the deal, readers. I want you all to stop what you’re doing tomorrow at 3:21 ET and cross all of your fingers and toes for, oh, ninety minutes. That should do it. 🙂