Getting the Boys Home (Or, On the Road with a Wildcat and a Marshmallow)

Well, we've made it back to Princeton, finally. We didn't want to leave Hot Springs, but at some point you have to get back home and clean out the mold. Jackson went into the trip with two consecutive nights of significantly interrupted sleep--the first by a nightmare, the second by vomiting. So we knew it would be a long day, as he hasn't napped on a plane since he's been old enough to realize he's on one. He was relatively sane until Chicago. We kept the Cheese Nips coming, pulled out a new book (It took me 20 minutes to select a book for maximum longevity; he threw it on the floor in, literally, 45 seconds.), but slyly saved the cookies for the second leg into Philadelphia. At touchdown in Chicago, he was beginning to show signs of meltdown. This took the form of running around Terminal B in tight circles, repeatedly diving onto the floor. I corralled him from one gate to the next as smiles faded. Our flight was delayed, so we had to start mentioning that somewhere someone had cookies that might or might not be available to boys who were good. This had moderate impact, but in such situations, this is the most one hopes for. At any rate, he ate candy and choco-covered pretzels for an hour and a half to Philly. A lot of climbing around on the floor and seat, but no extended wailing. This is what terrifies me. They're starting to kick people off planes over this kind of thing. New book #2 lasted about as long as the first. The great triumph, though, was that we had something on hand with sufficient appeal to keep him eating during the descent. (Even though we give him decongestants, he still has problems with the pressure changes.) As we descended into Philly, he began to close his eyes while chewing Christmas gumdrops. Then he drifted off entirely with green slobber oozing from his mouth. 5 minutes of nap at touchdown--what a guy.
Harry was a delight. You smile at him, and he laughs and coos. He apparently adores air travel.
We drove the hour from Philly to home in amazement that it looked like we were going to make it back without major mishap. It's a clear and cold night. There's snow on the ground. Everything is in order. Jackson is thrilled with all his old toys. We read his favorite giant truck book with a dump truck and a tractor piled in the chair with us. He's also taken to instructing his stuffed animals on the finer points of farm equipment. We can't wait to see how he takes to snow. Harry returns to Princeton having proven his mettle. Bronchiolitis racked his tiny frame when we left. He now faces the bitter chill with tightly compressed rolls of milk fat, and he goes to claim his victor's wreath from the pediatrician on Thursday morning. What great boys both!