Come Fly with Me

Last week we took a trip to Bilston, to see Nanny and Grandad. Nanny's only seen Emily twice since she was born, and Grandad only once, when she was only about 3 weeks old.

I had always had 1 year old as my mental landmark of when I'd be ready to do any 'big' travelling with Em, so it was a little earlier than expected, but I was feeling more confident than when we first started out in this parenting lark.

The BIG unknown was the plane. Coupled with having to carry a car seat, a pram and of course a lovely little baby girl, in addition to our usual baggage, we had the great concern about how she would react to the flight - particularly the big noise of take-off.

Up to this point, Em has cried at the blender, and shouted at the Dyson and the lawnmower. She doesn't seem to like this kind of noise.

However, we had a plan - time her bottle so she was guzzling as we took off. We boarded, and had the bottle at the ready, but she saw it and wanted it immediately. As we finished boarding and started taxiing to the runway, she was glugging like mad in a quest to scupper our feeble plan.

When the engines really kicked in, she had finished the bottle. Luckily we had a secret weapon that we were sure couldn't fail - the comfort blanket that is her gro-bag.

Gro-bag means SLEEEEEEEEEP.

Sure enough, she sat contentedly on Max's knee during take-off, not phased by any of the noise, and then promptly fell asleep for most of the journey, and we actually had to wake her up to disembark.

On the return journey she was just as content, which was a big relief. A seasoned traveller at 8 months old - Jet Set Emily.

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