We're gearing up for our annual (torturous) trip to New York this summer. Well, I'm gearing up, Pinglet is focusing on all the fun things she's going to do (both real and imaginary), and Mini-Ping is...well...he just "is" at the moment. Except when he's testing his boundaries and lying prone on the floor, yelling his head off, after being told he couldn't do something for the millionth time. Ping, meanwhile, is deciding what he'll do with all his free time while we're away ("work," he says, but methinks that's just something he's saying to make me feel bad for ditching him in sweaty Japan for the worst part of summer. Tant pis!)
I'm a bit nervous about the upcoming flight, although I've flown alone with the two kids before. It's just that Mini-Ping is turning 2 (my goddess, where did the time go? And why is there still baby-fat on my body??), and I'm afraid that the 24-hour trip will be awful beyond my wildest dreams (or nightmares, would probably be a better way to describe it). What does a 2-year-old do on a long haul flight?
I've scoured the net, spoken with "Dr. Google" (not in person, of course, but he's never let me down in the past), and am frantically trying to put together a busy bag for my busiest of babies. I'm sure it will all be for nothing, since he'll spend the entire flight torturing our fellow passengers, running up and down the aisles and annoying the flight attendants, and/or turning the water on and off in the bathrooms, leaving longs lines of irritated people waiting to get in. The Pinglet, meanwhile, will be happily absorbed in her coloring and crafts, so I'll be able to focus the majority of my attention on the one who will probably end up making the pilot reroute the flight to drop us off somewhere in the Pacific...I could always do Fiji, I guess.
I've recruited the Pinglet as my partner in crime to deal with the chaos (I mean, her brother) that will be accompanying us. She has pledged her alligiance to our alliance and hopefully we will come out on the other side, aka New York, relatively unscathed.
If you happen to be at JFK airport when we get there, you'll know that we've arrived when you see a bunch of bleary-eyed travelers running out of the terminal to get as far away from the Toddler Apocalypse, otherwise known as Mini-Ping, as possible.
Even apocalypses have to end at some point, don't they?