If you are a parent with kids my son’s age, then you can probably complete this line.
And don’t be too mad at me for sticking the Little Einstein’s theme song in your head for the rest of the day.
My daughter will be flying for her first time this week. I have successfully been able to keep her at home and off of airplanes for the first 15 months of life.
My son however, has racked up the frequent flyer miles in his short nearly four years of life.
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We are headed to Alaska for eight days.
When I tell people this, I usually get responses to the effect of being lucky and lots of “oooh’s”.
Nope, it’s what I signed up for when I married an Alaskan.
At first, we would visit his family almost every year, at least every 18 months. It has since become a little less frequent.
I have stressed about and dreaded… yes, dreaded... the trip since we bought our tickets about two months ago. It isn’t that I don’t adore my husband’s family. Really, I do. I am very lucky to have such wonderful in-laws.
For me, it is the whole traveling with kids thing. The thought of holding my daughter on our laps from Seattle to Anchorage fills me with dread. She is in that “don’t you dare confine me or I will scream” stage.
Entertaining my 4-year-old is a little less of a concern, and I have stocked up on plenty of surprise goodies to pull out at just the right minute.
In the last week, though, I have to admit, my stress and dread has melted away.
The thought of being able to sit and read a book while a relative entertains my kids is really, really appealing.
Our itinerary is set, and my husband and I do have one fishing charter together where we will be leaving our kids with my brother-in-law and his wife.
I keep reminding myself that worst case scenario is that my kids don’t go to bed for them and are still awake when we get back from our charter (being the land of the midnight sun and all, we arranged our charter so that we leave after dinner).
In which case, I guess they sleep in the next day.