Connecting Flights With Three Children Is Comparable To Competing In An Iron Man

We flew with all three kids to Disneyland last week. This was our first family flight. Our kids are ages 3, 8, and 10. We had connecting flights. It was basically hell. Here are a few thoughts/observations.

Woke up before God created the earth to catch flight.

3yo was potty trained, but her head just wasn’t in the game with all the planes and people and half undressing for security, so she peed her pants twice getting to the terminal.

Moving walkways are basically as exciting as Space Mountain, so we rode all of them twice.

Stopped at news stand for snacks, and left having spent 800 bazillion dollars on one small bag of fruit snacks, a Coke Zero, and half a tube of potato chips.

Kids came ripping and tugging and laughing to the back of the plane to the the tune of a million rolled eyes in first class.

Attempted to change 3yo’s peed in underwear in tight airplane bathroom and accidentally flushed toilet. The child was almost sucked in. The whole experience scared her so badly she peed her pants again, and we had the pleasure of starting over.

8yo spilled tube of potato chips during take off and I actually saw dollar signs escaping, similar to when a Harry Potter dementor sucks out a wizard’s soul.

Assumed that older siblings would help care for younger sibling. I know. I know. I was so naive.

Brought iPad, books, crayons, and a million movies. Nothing. They did nothing. 3yo just wanted hit me with the seatbelt and asked for candy. I gave her candy… so much candy.

10yo looked out the window as we took off, eyes bugged out of his head, and told me it was the coolest thing he’d ever seen.

8yo’s ears wouldn’t pop during the first landing regardless of gum or jaw popping or anything we suggested. Her head actually exploded, or at least, that’s how she acted.

Cashed in all three kids college funds to pay for lunch in second airport.

Traded places with wife to even out who had to manage the 3yo.

Flight attendant gave 3yo half cup of juice, and the kid handled it like a drunk woman in heels stumbling on a dance floor with a martini.

10yo and 3yo got into a slap fight over who got to sit next to window. No one was hurt, but I’m like 90% sure I saw a flight attendant reach for a phone to call for security.

Landed in LAX and realized I’d been sweating profusely, and wondered if connecting flights with three children is comparable to competing in an iron man.

Literally had to verbally or physically stop all three kids from climbing on luggage carousel like a pack of wild honey badgers.

Once we made it to the hotel I did little more but dread the flight back. But that’s a different story, very much like the one above.


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