Up in the Air

For us, a vacation usually begins with the Beirut airport. And then another airport. And then one more airport where we catch the plane that will take us to St. Louis.

Here we are waiting in line in London, heading to Chicago.

Some people hate traveling with kids--but I'd guess what they hate is traveling with other people's kids. My kids are fantastic at flying. They know about the lines and the waiting and the beverage cart and which things on their food tray they want and they know about the on-board pillows and blankets and movies etc. They know about security and baggage claim and passport control and customs. They're pros.

Danielle was delighted to have a window seat departing from Chicago. Stella traded seats with her before we landed.

I've counted up the intercontinental flights I've done so far, and the numbers show that I haven't flown with anyone more than I've flown with them. Our jobs are pretty clear cut--I manage the paperwork and the entertainment. I make sure they're happy, and if they're ok, so am I. We take care of each other. When I think about doing the 20+ hours without them, I just feel bored by it. And at this point, (please nobody take this the wrong way) they're my favorite people to travel with. Considering that they'll be my default travel buddies for a lot of years to come, favorite status is a very good thing.