We are on our way to visit my brother and sister-in-law. The problem is it involves a two hour car journey to Heathrow, a 13 hour overnight flight to Singapore topped off with a 2 hour flight to Phonm Penh in Cambodia.
I feel the glare of other passengers as the children run down the corridor to the cabin door of the plane with shrieks of excitement. We take our seats and are greeted by some friendly cabin crew. We wait for the other passengers to board and watch as they frantically check their seat numbers, praying they are not beside the young family.
I am apprehensive as The Toddler’s experience of travel is limited. I am convinced though that the television screens on the back of the seats will save the day and he will be engrossed in Dora the Explorer for a few hours. However, he yells when I attempt to put his earphones on, which promptly slip straight down his face. By now, he bored of sitting in his seat and decides it is time to get down before we have even taken off. I smile sweetly at the air hostess as my hand presses firmly down on his belt clasp pinning him to his seat. He hollows and shrieks, drowning out the Captain’s welcoming words. I feel like screaming out, “Forget the pleasantries, just get this aircraft moving.”
Finally, we are on our way and for the next few hours we pace up and down the plane, hand in hand with The Toddler, much to the annoyance of the cabin crew and their trolleys. Eventually, he is defeated by sleep, much to the relief of the suited man in front of us who has had to endure a small pair of Crocs kicking the back of his seat throughout supper. With the lights now dimmed, and everyone reclining their chairs for the night, the Toddler awakes, screaming at full pelt. I am in total panic and try to console him. “Do you want to sit on Mummy’s knee, have a cuddle or a gallon of chocolate?” People begin turning round putting me under more pressure and I run out of options. I lock us both in the loo and stay there for half an hour until the screams subside and he falls asleep. I return to my seat and carefully place him in his seat with his head on my lap. And there he remains for the next six hours. Meanwhile, I am motionless, not moving an inch for fear of waking him. My feet begin to tingle, my legs are totally numb and my hands are incapable of reaching into my bag for my book. I resort to reading the safety instructions in the back of the seat and wonder if it will all be worth it when we get there.
