Tantrums Big and Little

Hey.
I'm sitting at my desk, at home, as in, not on a plane or at my mom's house.  In my own house with the Boy asleep upstairs, with the husband off to New York to take his parents to JFK tomorrow, the dog in the kennel, and nothing to eat in the house but some orange juice I just defrosted, a couple of eggs and some popcorn for dinner.  It was good.  It's been a long time since I ate popcorn for dinner.

We had a lovely morning.  The husband drove us to the airport; we chatted merrily about seeing Nana and Auntie Anne and Poppa John, and giving them the icicles we made for them. At the airport, we checked in breezily and made our bumbley trundley way to the gate, stopping here for a smoothie, there for a frappuccino, all the while mommy doling out travel treats and pointing out Pandas and Geckos in the back-lit billboards. At the gate, we settled in and he played Wild Kingdom with his little plastic animals (big fish eat little fish, shark eat big fish, people eat sharks, cheetahs eat people) and mommy knit.  Seriously, I got to knit.  I have a three year old who let me knit in an airport departure lounge. You just know that this wonderful life picture is not going to last. 

He admired the plane as it arrived at the gate, asked me what kind it was (an MD-88: I checked ahead of time because I expect these kinds of questions) and when it was our time to board, he hoisted his backpack and followed me to the gate.  We walked down the hall, and at the end, where the floor of the gangway meets the plane, there was a six inch gap and a clear view down to the pavement, about twenty feet below us.  He stopped and made protesting noises, but I lifted him over the gap, tisking his doubts, and voila: we were on the plane. 

I said hello to the crew, and as we rounded the corner, my son -- who had not stopped whining quietly about the sight of daylight as we boarded -- halted before first class and shouted to the fifteen businessmen seated there: "DON'T YOU GUYS KNOW THESE THINGS ARE DANGEROUS?"

I should have recognized right then and there we were doomed.

I had to shove him into the seat in our row to get out of the way of the tide of preppy boys behind us, and I buckled him in as he grabbed at my hands to stop me.  As we sat there, he straining against the seat belt like Kong himself, he was quaking. Tears were streaming down his face.  He begged me to stop the plane from taking off.  As I tried to distract him from the panic that was clearly overtaking him, I realized that this child was doing everything in his power to communicate to me -- his guardian entity and creature who bore him into this world and who should therefore take into account such things -- that he "really really REALLY" didn't want to go anywhere but home in a nice smoke-free taxi, firmly on the ground. In minutes, he was in full hysterics, and I had no choice but to save him.

It took me and a nice member of the ground crew to carry him off the plane without bruising anyone else.  People couldn't have been nicer, even though I had no way to explain to them what was going on with my son because he has flown a dozen times before and never been anything but excited by it. It may have never occurred to him before that flying is so irrational a thing, and there were great heights and large objects defying gravity involved. I don't blame him, really.  He's crossed some kind of cognitive threshold, and I may have to explain the concept of lift to him before he'll get on another plane.  There go my dreams of San Francisco in the Spring.

So here I am at home.  I feel reckless and sorry for myself, like I should eat a whole pint of Edy's Dreamery Ice Cream, or cast on for something entirely random and new and selfish.  The yarn for my Christmas projects is sitting in Atlanta right now, along with my camera.  I am so glad that I didn't pack my needle case. 

Maybe I'll buy a tree while the Boy's in school tomorrow and we can decorate it before Daddy gets home.  And maybe I'll buy some ice cream.

Comments

[Cassie]

Crap. Sorry to hear that things didn't work out as planned. I'd say go for the ice cream *and* the "selfish" (NOT) cast on.

[Maria]

Wow, that's quite a story. Your Boy must be really smart to have such fears at this age. I'm preparing for a flight next week with my 2 yo daughter; your post really made me think!

[Ruth]

Awwww, Julia, I'm sorry the Boy got spooked. For what it's worth, I think you handled it the only way you could. Poor guy was freaked out, and needed to go home. So you took him there. I know you're disappointed, but I think you did the right thing.

Now go get yourself a pint (or two) of your favorite ice cream. You deserve it.

[Cara]

I feel your son's pain. Really. I have to take some majorly nice drugs before I get on a plane and even then I have to convince myself that downing the rest of the bottle won't really help. I hope for him, and for you, that it was only a temporary episode. Ugh. I'm so sorry for both of you. That had to suck really, really bad.

[Colleen]

Good Mom move! I'm sorry that he got so frightened (and he must have been frightened indeed if you got off the plane). Maybe by next time he'll have forgotten?

[eunny]

Sorry things didn't work out - I'm not normally so blatant about my shaudenfreude, but I have to admit it made me smile when you described your son warning the business class passengers :)

[eunny]

Doh, schadenfreude. Where's my brain today?

[--Deb]

I'm sorry about that, too, but agree--you did what you really had to do. There's "bratty" crying for attention or what-not, but not "meaninful," and there's full-fledged, I-can't-help-it hysterics, and you were smart enough to know the difference and do what a good Mom does. Popcorn for dinner and ice cream sounds like a pretty decent reward to me. But I am sorry about the flight!

[Chris]

I applaud your ability to switch gears like that. Not everyone can, even for the sake of a child in need. Still, tough to take, I imagine. Do go treat yourself to something!

[Emma.]

I'm crying after reading that. I don't panic,but can feel your son's panic and distress. What you did was let him know that you will,indeed,always take care of him. That will make him stronger and braver in the end. Little people need to have their feelings respected too,and you're a wonderful mama for giving him that respect.

Ice cream sounds good. :0)

[knitteriam]

You are the BEST MOM EVER! Usually it takes moms reflection and hindsight to realize what they SHOULD have done. I am so proud of you. Nothing can replace what you gave him today. I AM glad, though, that you didn't send your needles ahead. When the yarn and camera come back to you someday (as the airline sees fit to send them -hee-hee) it will be like opening Christmas presents again and hopefully it will bring back fond memories of how you totally saved the day!

[Amy]

We are around if you would like Will would like a Dan Zanes playdate earlier than next week. Take care of yourselves.

[margene]

Oh boy! You are a great mom to not force the situation. Do something extra nice for yourself today. You deserve it.

[pj]

You are a great mom to ignore the embarrassment, denial and doubt and do what you knew to be right at the time. I'm impressed. There is a huge difference between making your small child do what is non-negotiable (like wearing a seat belt or bike helmet) and not making him do something that doesn't make sense to his rational mind.

[Norma]

Oy. Do you remember the words, "You have made a mistake. You still have time to correct it!" I do, and every time I do, they give me the greatest laugh. Hopefully you're laughing again now, having eaten a goodly amount of ice cream and popcorn for dinner. Sorry about all that, but you, of course, did the right thing.

[Lee Ann]

I can only hope that once-a-month flying plus two parents with her is going to keep my kid from freaking out on the plane to France, because there is no way I could take her back home and not go.

You are one hell of a strong woman, Julia. I am SO sending you a box of Shreddies. I have them right here. My drunken postman will be happy to get them to you in the next month, I promise ;-)

[S.Kate]

I thought "Wow, what a great mom" when I first came across your blog while you were in the midst of knitting your young manling a pirate hat. How you handled this airplane situation only cements that first impression.

Sheet mon, you da MOM...

[liz]

Poor baby. Both of you!

[Rachel H]

Buy ice cream, cast on something lovely for yourself, and know without a single doubt that you are a GREAT MOM. And you did exactly what a great Mom would have done. Your little man may forget the event in time, but he will always know and trust in how much his Mom loves him, and will take care of him no matter what.

[Julia]

Poor thing. It must have been awful for him to feel so frightened. I don't know if I would have known what to do in such a situation. I'm sure you will all have a nice, quiet holiday free from travel stress. It may be your best one. It never occurred to me that my daughter might be afraid to fly, since I get such a kick out of it.

[claudia]

I've pretty much got nothing for you.

Wait....something's coming to me....

I suggest that you go buy yarn.

[vanessa]

it's taken me a long time to be able to fly without zanax. have the ice cream and put some fudge on top :-)

[Kim]

Oh Julia.......I just died laughing reading what your son yelled to the business on the plane....LOL! You must have died.

Kudo's to you for listening to your son and taking him off the plane. You ARE a great Mum!

[benedetta]

I am so glad you did what you did!

I was on a plane last summer, when a young child totally lost it and his parents just forced him on his seat until take off- it was awful and i felt a strong urge to yell at them. i still regret i did not, but the training to mind my own business prevailed. it was very unnerving also for my children, traveling with me.

so glad you were able to really listen to Will, enjoy him and give him a big hug. it must have been very scary!

[kim]

Lucky Will that he has a Mom that will not force him to do things until he's ready. Hopefully he'll be able to talk about his thoughts with you soon. If not, have you looked into trains? Lots of knitting time!