
Seven hours into a twelve-hour flight the other night, an adorable (and chatty) curly top three-year-old in a nearby row: “Mommy, I don’t want to stay on the airplane anymore. My legs want to run.”
Mommy (sounding similarly fed-up if not run-ready): “I know, Sweetie, but we can’t get off right now.”
Curly Top, miffed, tone slightly rising toward whine-a-thon: “Why?”
Mommy: “Because we’re very high up so we can’t go out now.”
Curly Top: “We’re in the sky, Mommy?”
Mommy, voice disheartened: “Yes … we’re up in the sky.”
Silence. Then Curly Top again, pensive with a touch of wonder filtering in: “Mommy, we flying?”
Mommy: “Aha … the airplane is way up high because we’re flying.”
Another silence, followed by bubbly cheerfulness in the toddler’s voice: “Oh, that okay Mommy! We can just fly down right now!”
🙂

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