It starts the moment I sit down. Mom is on the phone, sitting in the aisle. In the middle sits a slightly older little girl, who is talkative but her legs are still. She must be 5 or so. Immediately I resent that Mom is sitting on the aisle - everyone knows that for maximum control, proximity to the child is of essence. Listening to her conversation I realize that she's talking to her dad, telling him "you'll do fine," so I decide to cut her some slack and just sit forward, moving my back from the seat rest.
Little devil goes on a rampage, though, and suddenly starts kicking with a vengeance. Finally Mom hangs up the phone, turns to the kid (Sam) and tells him to stop, or he's going to get in trouble with "the Lady." (meaning the flight attendant.)
I want to get up and give her a parenting lesson right then and there. I want to ask her why she doesn't have things to keep their attention (crayons, paper, tiny toys, hell I've seen parents travel with portable dvd players), why isn't she sitting between them and most importantly, I want to let her know that her kids need to respect (and maybe be a bit afraid, at that age, whatever, of) her, not the "Lady."
But I keep my mouth shut because at least she's addressed the problem somewhat and I want to give Sam the chance to redeem himself. He promptly stops kicking and moves to loudly whine about wanting apple juice and being in another plane. I fall asleep as is my wont when the plane departs. Sam, however, does not disappoint, and wakes me up by alternatively kicking my seat - left foot, right foot, together! He sings loudly about his boredom. Soon enough he's taking off his seat belt and standing on his seat. Mom throws out a litany of orders without any real authority behind it (sit down, shh, don't kick.) I kick myself for switching bags and leaving behind the crayons that Yalialma gave me the last time I saw her. I start to wonder how long is my flight and reminding myself I can tune out anything.
Once again I'm surprised parents don't "help" their children and themselves by giving them a bit of tylenol cold or zyrtec or something. Hell, chamomile tea if you're the kind that's squeamish. Anything to soothe them a little bit. They suffer, the kids suffer, the other passengers suffer. His sister (Taylor) attempts to make things better. She tells him: "Sam, there are the airplane rules: first, don't smell your feet. Don't put your feet on someone else's seat. Don't poke someone's eye out."
I finally sneak a peak at Sam and he's of course, adorable looking, with a full head of white blond hair, and he gives me a brilliant smile when he sees me. His mother asks them if they enjoyed NYC, trying to get them busy and occupied. By then she's tried to pull out a laptop and plays them a video, but Sam is not interested - after all the laptop is on Mom's tray, and Mom's on the aisle. I feel the airplane descend a little. I feel a blissful moment of peace when Mom takes Sam to the restroom but on the way back, after tasting a bit of freedom is back on, and he's screaming at her that she doesn't like her, doesn't like Taylor and goes into full rabieta mode. Finally Mom says that he will spend some time in the Naughty Chair at home if he keeps this up. Daddy will not be happy when he finds out how Sam behaved. Sam responds by spitting on Taylor and Mom's response to Taylor, who has just hit Sam is to "don't hit him, just ignore him."
Sister tries to make Sam comfortable and talk. By now Sam has earned 6 minutes on the Naughty Chair. We're about to land - Taylor is distressed because Sam's belt is not buckled and she keeps telling Mom, Mom keeps saying that he's buckled, until she realizes that he isn't and finally tightens him in.
When we land and we're waiting for the 27 rows ahead of us to leave the plane, I stand up and ask Sam to give me a high five and teach him how to thumb wrestle. Mom talks to the children (not to me) saying "you're lucky she likes children after you were kicking her seat for so long." I say out loud that they are children, because indeed, they are. I give Sam a last wave goodbye before my co-worker and I get out of there and to the Charlotte, North Carolina airport.
I changed my mind a lot during the course of this flight - from judging Sam's Mom to feeling sorry for her (when a kid starts a tantrum, I always feel bad for the parent. I don't hold the belief that all children that throw tantrums are spoiled or not well parented.) I still do believe that her flight would've been made easier if she had sat in the middle, although I understand that she tried to give Taylor a view of the window - although Sam kept the window down because the height freaked him out, mostly. The hardest part is when your younger kid is not as easy to handle as your older one. It was obvious that Taylor was the kind of kid that listened and could be reasoned with - those tactics did not work with Sam. I'm proud, however, that I was able to not go crazy, although all through the flight, I kept thinking of this drawing - it's from Strangers in Paradise, David and Katchoo get on a flight and David has less of an enjoyable time. This picture belongs to Terry Moore, the amazing artist.
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