So, the last few plane trips for Luke have been ... alarming. On a scale of one to ten (one being, like, sleeping and ten being him screaming "we're all going to crash into the ocean!!!!!"), flights in recent memory have been ... mostly tens.
But this time, coming home to Canada a solid eight months after his last flying experience, I hoped he'd be a little more chill. Or at least that his speech hadn't developed to the point where fellow passengers could actually understand what he was shrieking into the void.
And everything started well. Just look! These two actually held hands on the walk across the runway without me even badgering them to do so:
Admittedly, once we were boarded, there were a few nerves (and wolf calls?) before we took off:
... but while I actively chose to be present in the moment rather than record it this time, I'm happy to report that when we took off, Luke's face broke into a cheek-splitting grin.
(and the day was also greatly helped by the train ride in the middle)
(and also the nth degree brain rot occurring from unrestricted iPad access)
(and also ... this thing? Which was pretty awesome until Mummy realized how devastatingly filthy Houston airport is and then it was like oh my god please staahhhhhp touching all the thinnggsss)
But I think we did pretty well, all things considered (and by all things considered I mean being just the three of us, with big bags, and no Daddy, and traveling thousands of kilometres across oceans that we didn't end up crashing into and mountains that we didn't blow up against). So basically, yay us!