So I met my dream child this week on a flight to Toronto. I suppose met isn’t really the right word… encountered might be a better choice. Anyway, I checked in late and was granted the dreaded seat 22f. Last row before the toilets and blessed with seats that don’t recline (which was to be key as this was a 7am flight). As I approached the seat I noticed the young woman in the middle was holding something, and that something was moving.
6:45 am, sleep badly needed and a the promise of a screaming kid for the next 4 hours.
It was at this point that fate intervened and the parents mentioned that their mother was seated a few rows up and was willing to trade seats. I gladly accepted their offer, but much to my surprise the baby didn’t make a sound all flight… though someone in a seat near me had serious gas. Life isn’t fair.