Thank the sweet baby Jebus, all of my travel fears were for naught. Drew couldn’t have been a more perfect traveler. Well, he probably could have, but he behaved exactly the way we dreamed about. Minimal fuss on the plane, save for takeoff and landing, and really, who could blame him? His poor little ears must have hurt. Thankfully it was nothing a little feeding couldn’t cure.
**Side note: forgive me for going off on a slightly bitter tangent, but can I take a moment to tell you about the awful return to New York landing we endured? There’s me, saddled with a cold, feeling as though my face is going to explode while we descend altitude, there’s the pilot who must have been compensating for *something* judging by the way he came barreling into landing full speed ahead, causing the plane to bounce as though we were caught in a turbulence cloud of doom, and there’s the baby, who could only be calmed down by nursing, which involved me desperately trying to hang onto him while the plane raises and dips, raises and dips, all the while my face contorting into uglier and uglier paroxysms of pain from the pressure. Oh the pressure!
But! Back to the matter at hand. The vacation! It was glorious. It was everything we love about a warm, sunny destination, just with the addition of swim diapers and even more sunscreen. It was board shorts and shades, frozen drinks, overpriced poolside food, damp lounge chairs, an abundance of striped towels, no concept of time, daytime flip flops and evening dresses, late night dinners, white sheets, white towels, white bathrobes, front desk name mispronunciation, sandy feet, sunscreen and a little baby in resort wear.
It was perfect, for all three of us.
Sad it’s over! Such a great time!