We made it.
Like a seasoned traveler, Jackson breezed through the layovers, canceled flights, uncomfortable seating and public restroom diaper changes.
Never have I wiped down a surface so thuroughly.
I broke down and let him play on airport "playground" equipment. I could feel the "pink eye" creeping around the corners of the bright yellow slides, but he was so in love with the Syracuse play area I had to let him play. He sat in the tiny helicopter and enjoyed its levers, pedals and buttons.
Between the two of us, dad and I had it down to a science. Bathroom breaks, food court dining and playing baby swap during naps on the plane, we took on O'Hare, Dallas, Syracuse and Tulsa. Jackson adored his cousins and quickly learned to appeal to the Court of Oma for anything he might need. He took walks to the stream, shopped for a winter coat and was regularly chased in the backyard.
And he now offically signs for "Please." Although grandaddy thinks it really means "Gimme." But isn't that what we all mean when we say "Please" ?