Our re-scheduled flight was for Monday evening, and I'd be even madder about the whole situation if Eleanor wasn't doing such a bang-up job of being a person. Her nap on Monday came super early (because we got up at 5) so she was already tired by the time we left for the airport at 3, and then we had two one-hour flights with a three-hour layover in between. We didn't get in until midnight, our time.
Das our plane! Das a tractor. Dat is a bobcat.
But she was a delightful trooper, charging around the airport charming people and scamming extra cookies from the flight attendants.
I packed her backpack with treasures, and my purse with snacks.
The hardest moment came early in the layover when she suddenly wanted to go home, or get on the plane, or SOMETHING THAT WASN'T HAPPENING WHY WAS NOTHING HAPPENING? Poor you, I said. Let's go find some food.
It was well after her bedtime by this point, and we still had almost two hours in the airport plus another flight PLUS the drive home. I tucked her up and turned a movie on for her and thought she might sleep, but Eleanor is not a Sleeping While Fun Things Might Be Happening kind of baby.
Lucky for me, then, that she is the Good-Tempered In Rough Times kind.