This week, Squirmy got to break in that brand new passport of his. I was headed back to California and thought it'd be nice to give my Bride a break and let the in-laws soak in the handsomeness that is the Squirmy.
Of course, this also meant me struggling through the airports (including Heathrow at rush hour... *shudder*) with the Boy and an extra set of luggage. And not knowing how he was going to handle the whole flying-through-the-air-with-a-bunch-of-strangers thing, I was a bit nervous. When the Manchester to Heathrow flight was late and I was running through the terminal with Squirmy strapped to my chest in his Baby Bjorn, swinging like a pendulum as I hoofed it to the other side of the airport building, I was sure I was going to be stuck for several hours in the airport, entertaining the kid until the next flight was ready. But Squirmy played his "I am so freaking adorable" card, and got the wonderful people of British Airways called ahead saying "we have a gentelman with an infant - he's on his way!
Because of some unbelievably good karma, I ended up with an empty seat next to me on the flight (which was only half full), and Squirmy got to hang out in comfort. Just after take off, the boy began to cry, and I had a "here we go..." moment. Until I smelled the reason he was crying. One quick de-tox trip to the bathroom later, and that was the last time he cried the entire flight.
If he manages a repeat performance on the return journey, I'm going to have to do some serious "woo-hoo" celebrating.