The day began as it always did, with myself singing sweetly to my parents in the other room that the sun was to rise momentarily, and now is the moment to come release me from my crib so that we may enjoy it together. Mother came in (hurrah!), and gave me my pre-breakfast energy drink (double hurrah!!)
Author's note : "Double hurrah" -- get it? Because I have two, er, milkshake dispensers?!?!?! (Author's addendum: I explain for the sake of dum-dums like myself who would never have gotten it.)
After a wholesome meal of waffle and banana, I suffered myself to be changed into a fresh diaper and a set of clothes. I was then allowed to run about and play with all my new gifts from my adoring worshippers. But then I realized that I should earn my keep, especially as we were to embark on a long journey, so I called the airline:
Me: I would like to confirm our flight. Reservation code is [REDACTED].
Person: Yes, two seats on the bulkhead and a bassinet, that's confirmed.
Me: A bassinet? That can't be right. What are the height and weight limits on that?
Person: The maximum weight is 10.5 kilos, sir. The bassinet is 77 cm in length.
Me: Well, I -- I mean, the baby -- happens to be over both of those measurements, so cancel the bassinet, please.
Having done my duty, I played the part of the perfect pre-boarding passenger, waving at all the new fans I inevitably attracted. It was quite tiring to be on all the time, so I occasionally took time to re-center myself.
When the time came for boarding and takeoff, I again pulled off a flawless performance: friendly, not too loud, and only slightly filthy from all the chocolate I'd been given.
Author's warning: Do not make the same mistake I did. No sweets to the little one before takeoff!
Father seems extremely upset about not having the bassinet. He keeps telling Mother that he bought these seats specifically so we could have a bassinet.
Good news: the flight attendants asked the passenger across the aisle to scoot over one so we could have a whole other non-occupied seat for our family of three! She (the passenger) keeps waving to me. She is very nice. I am waving back.
I listened to some light music after lunch, in preparation for my nap:
But I couldn't stop my mind from wrestling with so many questions. Why wasn't I allowed to run down all the aisles? Why did Father forbid me from having more chocolate? How will world leaders enforce the resolutions of the Paris climate talks?
I eventually drifted off into sweet oblivion, cradled in the loving arms of Mother.
Play, play, play:
NO! NO! I WILL NOT SLEEP!!! THIS IS THE MOST AWFUL EXPERIENCE OF MY LIFE!!! YOU ARE ALL TERRIBLE!!! THERE WAS SOMEONE ON THE GRASSY KNOLL!!!!
(repeat for three hours)
Fine, flight attendant, I'll have some milk in a plastic cup. Awww, you drew a face on the lid! That's going the extra mile right there. To thank you, I will have a short nap on Father's shoulder.
(repeat for three hours)
We are at another airport! This one has nice floors, perfect for eating my snacks:
Ooo, we're getting on another airplane! I can't wait to...can't...can't...
(For four glorious hours! On a five-hour flight!)
We're here! We're here!
IT'S SO HOT!!! MOMMMM, TAKE ONE LAYER OFF AT LEAST! DO I REALLY NEED THIS SANDO?
Ahhh, thank you. Slightly better.
And that, dear readers, is the long version of my very first airplane ride(s). The bulleted version is:
12:30 Takeoff. Playtime.
18:30 Crying time.
21:30 Uneasy sleep.
22:30 Crying time.
TL;DR: We all survived a 15-month-old's first airplane ride.
This post brought to you by mommy and daddy time in Boracay!