I'm trapped on a plane with two small children. I'm nervous as hell, I'm sweating through my shirt and I'm praying my kids behave. Mr. Yoy is snoozing away in the aisle seat and I'm shooting him death glances. The people around us are, one by one, requesting headsets. This is no bueno.
I'm not above using a little mental warfare on my kids for the sake of surviving the plane ride.
We have convinced Big E that the no smoking sign above our heads is actually a no pooping sign. We tell him not to do it. He buys right into this and starts repeating over and over again that he is not allowed to poop. The thought of having to change a diaper in an airplane bathroom fills me with debilitating fear.
I'm proud to announce my kids were 0-4 on both flights. We made it!
Our other ace in the hole is the "pilot" card. We told Big E that if he was misbehaving then we would have to press the pilot light (next to the flight attendant light) and he would be in big trouble. We could also call the pilot on our cell phones. This worked wonders and even bled over into our time in Rye. Any misbehaving on Big E's part and we would mock call the pilot. That put the kaibash on any undesirable behavior.
We had a great trip to NY but are very happy to be home and have our plane rides behind us.