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Mommy Wars in the Sky

You get to the airport barely before the recommended two hours and head to the check-in desk.  You tried to plan ahead and checked in online, but there are bags involved.

Bags tossed onto the magic belt, you head toward security.  On the way there, your child finds two pieces of chewed gum under a trash-can lid, touches the floor approximately 97 times, grabs a stranger’s pant let thinking it’s you and then howls in – what?  fear?  rage? At this point you don’t know and are quickly reaching the don’t care point.

Lugging the carry-on and a child(ren), you head toward the security line, where you wait.  And wait.  And wait for someone to take embarrassing pictures of you and single you out for extra touching.  While in line, your child wiggles along on the floor, sometimes singing, sometimes crying.  The snotty nose makes an appearance.  A strange smell starts to waft around the line, and you make knowing motions toward the elderly person with the walker ahead of you to try and deflect suspicion.  You know it is your child, but you can’t exactly leave the line to take care of the problem.  And everyone is staring at you with great hope that you will not be on their flight.

Welcome to flying with children.  You’ve now completed the easy part.

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