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what we talk about when we talk about flying (with infants)

the algebra of sets; pen and ink on paper (old math textbook paper).

1) Terminal 3 at Pearson is a pattern-carpeted ghetto.

2) When you get on an airplane with an infant, essentially you're entering into a cage match with a twenty-pound wrestler.

3) The match is fixed.

4) You lose.

5) Note to Mister Professor, sitting across the aisle from us with his half-his-age wife and two young children: putting your hand over the mouth of a tantrum-throwing four year-old is an *extremely* poor silencing strategy.

6) Also: forget the newspaper. And *really* forget that "Learning Portuguese" book. Those things went out the window when you started messing around with that young, skinny thing (well *of course* she lied about wanting kids).

7) A poop will happen. Fortunately, Oona's came in Terminal 3.

8) It deserved it.

9) My own never-been-in-a-bathroom-on-an-airplane streak remains: intact.

10) Is there a more fitting example of the queasy uselessness attendant in most of our (modern) lives than sitting in a landed jetliner, sitting there on the tarmac while it waits for a place to park?

Comments

  1. i LOVE this post.

    what i talk about when i talk about posting.

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  2. Good to hear No 9 is still intact! And that you guys are home again. Order is restored :)

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  3. Pearson is where dreams go to die.

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  4. haha..your posts make me laugh..cause I been there, bought the Tee and wore it out..now the babies on the plane are grown men and finally way fun to travel with..whew!

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  5. ditto what maggie said.

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  6. oona is adorable. and you are ever so talented. so don't worry about the breeze...

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  7. Love that drawing. And I have yet to fly with an infant - I'm looking forward to this experience, having heard your glowing recounting.

    iamemmamusic.blogspot.com

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  8. oh but your drawing is cool!

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  9. I love your pen and inks on old math textbook paper. love them. and Oona is a spectacularly beautiful name.

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