I guess it’s time to get out of denial and face the music about an upcoming event that I have been keeping close to the chest, refusing to discuss, and generally trying to forget.  Sunday, July 2nd, my wife and I will do a cross-country flight with our rambunktious 2-year-old.  We have done everything in our power to prepare for the assault: strategic scheduling of the flight, new [and currently hidden] toys, bag o’snacks, portable DVD player and her carseat.  I’m also bringing ear plugs for the surrounding passengers.  Really.  I am.  It’s the best we can do, I think.  Other than choreographing the use of our in-flight arsenal in a manner similar to a clandestine CIA operation, the rest is up to her.  And that’s where the fear comes in.

My daughter – God love her – is unpredictable at best and downright predictable at worst.  She’s batting about .750 when it comes to doing the worst thing she could possibly do at any given moment.  OK, I may be exaggerating there, but, trust me…she’s a firecracker.  So, with two 3-hour flights looming on the horizon, her recent dabblings in experimental temper tantrums, the perfection of her “scream voice”, mixed with any anxieties Mommy and I may be supressing, we could be in for a bumpy ride. We’ll have to repeat this whole process 10 days later, mind you.  So, if she absolutely hates it, we’re fucked on the way home.

The saving grace is, upon arrival, we’ll have a slough of family to fall back on as The Wife and I begin the process of post-flight, personal reconstruction. Hell, we may even transfer ownership of her to the grandparents for a week or so.