Leaving On A Jet Plane

7:21 a.m.
Claire and I are flying to SoCal tonight, leaving Bodie to fend for himself until he joins us in a few days.

Me. Claire. In the confines of a commuter jet. For an hour. Twice. With a layover in LAX.

Do I start drinking now, or do I wait until it really is five o'clock somewhere?


1/13/08 UPDATE
I never want to be that parent. You know, that parent who lets their child throw a tantrum in a nice restaurant, or kick the back of an airplane seat, or feeds their child Flamin' Hot Cheetos and Hawaiian Punch for breakfast (and yes, I have encountered parents who really do that). So I was quite worried that I might completely cave and suspend all rules and procedures in the Claire's Manual for Orderly Living in order to avoid being that parent during our trip.

What the hell was I so worried about? Claire took the entire experience like a champ, from going through security in Arcata to waiting in the San Diego airport until midnight for our bags to arrive. She completely charmed every passenger within five rows, all of the flight attendants, and had her Papa and Uncle Aaron wrapped around her little finger as soon as we walked through the gate.

Dude, sometimes Mama just needs to chill.