We live a good 2,000km away from most of our family, so Dictator is very familiar with airports and planes and the fact that trips to the airport mean goodbye at least half of the time. 

Today, after my mom and stepdad dropped us off at the departure gate in Montreal, Dictator had a bit of a meltdown. Lots of incoherent sobbing with the occasional, “Grandma and Grandpa come to my house!” and “Grandma and Grandpa come on the plane with me? Yes?” thrown in for good measure. 

This has been typical of the last few departures, and as she melted down this afternoon, I started wondering if we’re creating some sort of separation anxiety or general phobia of airports and leaving loved ones. 

So I got in close to her, gave her a big hug, and said, “I know you miss Grandma and Grandpa. I miss them, too.”

She kind of hiccuped and the crying slowed down a little. “I- I- I- miss Gr- Gra- Grandma’s CANDY!” 

Oh.

I’ll probably edit that part out when I tell this story to my mom. 

I don’t understand why I have to travel 1,200km west, then 3,200km southeast, then 800km northeast when the place I want to go to is less than 2,000km dead east.

Please ‘splain.

improvisingfatherhood:

Step 1: Have a kid.

Step 2: Take your kid on a lot plane flights between the age of 1 and 2.

Step 3: Go on a flight without your kid.

Step 4: Laugh at all the non-parents who think traveling is stressful.

I have fantasies about being able to travel again with a single piece of carry-on luggage and a book I actually get to read. 

Honest-to-goodness fantasies. 

Wow.