whirling dervish

My sister has a bunch of Aeroplan points and a couple of weeks ago she offered to use some of them to get some tickets for us to fly out to Ottawa with the kids for a visit this winter. We mulled it over a bit. Given Greg’s employment status we weren’t sure we could afford it (we paid the taxes), and we weren’t sure he’d want to take off for a week when he’d (hopefully) just started a new job.

I thought about taking the kids on my own, but that thought lasted all of two seconds. Flying with Elliot is easy, flying with Amy is not. I thought about going out again with just Elliot, but my sister would really like to see both kids. So in the end we’ve decided to go as a family.

A couple of days ago (and this is related), Elliot and I were sitting on his bed reading. He’s always been into books, but he’s stepped it up quite a bit and I figure we’re probably reading about 20 books per day to him now, on the days we’re home all day with him. So we were sitting there reading, side-by-side, and Amy was playing in the room. She would run over to the train table, grab a car, come running back to the bed, grunt and groan until I helped her onto the bed, put the car in the pocket of the sweatshirt I was wearing, get off the bed and repeat the process. Periodically she’d stay up on the bed and try to zip or unzip the pocket. Then she’d ask for help and get mad when I tried to help her. And she’d get mad when I would put my arm down to turn the page, because she couldn’t get to the pocket. Then she’d take all the cars out. And put them back in again. Then sprawl herself on my lap. Then roll over. You get the picture.

Through all this, Elliot didn’t moved a muscle. He’s listened intently to the book, even through all the distractions. And I suddenly realized…THIS is what the plane ride will be like. Thank God I’m not doing it by myself.