I believe at some point I *might* have made some declaration along the lines of:

Thee shalt not brag about thy baby. 

Just temporarily forget about that for me, would you? This needs to be an exception. A big one.

When your baby flies for the first time and takes that shit down, you need at least five hundred words of bragging rights. Naturally that could be five thousand, but I’m trying to contain myself.

And my bragging.

FOH was nothing short of miraculous for the hour and ten minutes we were in the air. He was flawless. Completely flawless.

Happy. Content. Curious. Enthralled. And, lastly, tired.

Granted, he spent quite a bit of time hitting the bald spot of the guy in front of us — who was such a good sport about it and didn’t care in the slightest.

In addition, we were super lucky that our seat mate was a very calm older gentleman who, raised three wild children and whom proclaimed, nothing is going to phase me, honey.

I was packed, locked and loaded with snacks and juice in my handbag. Massive kudos to you moms out there who actually follow your normal food protocol. I didn’t give a shit what FOH ate, so long as he was happy and quiet.

This meant two full cookies. They were Kashi cookies, so that has to account for something, right? The fact that was I was responsible enough to pack organic cookies.

Amazing how throwing the word organic in front of just about anything makes me feel better about myself as a mother.