Can you sense that I’m slightly nervous? No? Thanks, I do try and hide it well. Huh? Oh, I’m nervous because I’ll be taking my first flight with Little Dub tomorrow. He’s already flown with his mother, granny and aunt, but I haven’t had the pleasure yet. We’re leaving tomorrow for a week-long Thanksgiving break in Vegas and Arizona and I’m just a little anxious about flying with him. I’m not afraid of a melt-down or anything – I think I’ll be using the Dutch method of flying with an infant so this shouldn’t be a problem.

No, I’ve entered an entirely different realm now. When he traveled to FL back in August, I was a nervous Nellie. Not out of fear that he wouldn’t fly well, but out of fear that there was nothing I could do to make sure they made it safely. I don’t like the idea of surrendering control where my family is concerned. I’m not sure this has always been present, I don’t think it has. My wife and I have flown several times and I never once gave this any thought. But, apparently, when the little guy is involved, some sort of primal instinct has decided to kick in and I want pilots taking breathalyzers and distributing training records and number of flight hours. If your name isn’t Chuck Yeager, you’re an amateur in my eyes. No, I don’t think this is irrational, not in the least bit. Hell, we research our daycare providers, why can’t I get background info on a guy piloting a 727?

And, again, it’s not a fear of flying, not at all. I like flying. I’m just having difficulty ceding a level of control. Deep down, I know it will be fine. However, I think I’m entitled to at least one neurosis where my family is concerned, dammit.

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