Flying Milo

Let's just say that our flight to Austin ended with mommy needing a margarita (which Aunt Beth quickly complied with.) It started with you being all cute at the airport and doing your #2 before we got on the plane (thank you baby!) Since Southwest decided that it was smarter to let parents board with everyone else (god forbid we have a few minutes to fold our strollers and settle our kids before the masses), mommy managed to juggle you, a diaper bag, a bag of tricks and a stroller toward the plane. We got an aisle seat and sat next to two very nice men who talked basketball recruiting the whole way and did attempt to help mommy a bit during the flight. To make a long story short—you HATED sitting on my lap. You want to wander and play in the aisle and kick the seat in front of us. During turbulence, when the seat belt sign went on and you were forced to comply, you SCREAMED for a good 20 minutes straight. The flight attendant came up to mommy and said, "Is there anything we can do? I can hear him clear to the front of the plane." He would not, however, pour you the Scotch like I asked. Your fat cheeks and cute curls saved the day because everyone still fawned over you even though they had to turn the volume up on their iPods.