Pushing Buttons, Pushing Strollers

I flew on a plane for the second time in my life, this time to Minneapolis. My dad had a job interview. Besides finding bed bugs at our first hotel, the trip went okay. It was tiring, though. And the flight home was a long one.

When I'm ready for a nap, I get a little cranky. To let off steam, I cry myself to sleep. I just so happened to need a nap about an hour into our ride home. If you've ever flown on a plane, you'll understand when I say I had a hard time getting comfortable. Even for me, there was too little space.

I may have been a little overtired and a little extra ornery, so I may have kicked the dramatic crying up a notch. But I wasn't too bad, and my crying only lasted about ten minutes. 

Apparently, another guy sitting nearby felt that ten minutes was ten too many, and he complained and complained and complained to my dad about it. He even told my dad to give me drugs to force me to sleep and called my dad a bad father. I don't think I've ever seen my dad so mad, or ever heard him swear at a complete stranger before!

I could tell my parents were exhausted and ready to be home. I was ready to be home, too. Since I got a good nap on the plane and didn't have to wake up all groggy from medication I didn't even need, I felt I had enough energy to help my parents with their carry-on bags after we landed. So, I had them load up the stroller with their bags, then I pushed it through the terminal. It's fun being such a good helper.