God Help Me, I'm Flying with a Toddler
I'm a nervous traveler. I arrive at my airport two hours early and make a beeline for my gate. Then I sit at the gate and check the gate number, the gate display info, my ticket, my watch, the gate number, my watch, the gate display info, my ticket, my ticket again just to make sure, my back pocket to make sure I haven't dropped my driver's license somewhere between security and the gate, and my gate number again. My hubs, on the other hand, is rarely rattled. He doesn't get nervous traveling, even that time he was almost arrested on a train in Germany. That's why my husband and I are good travel partners. He is in charge of getting me where I need to go with the least amount of anxiety possible, and I am in charge of making sure all of his underwear fits into his carry-on. It's win-win (especially for the other vacationers who don't have to see his Frank and Beans all week). However, our nice set-up is about to get blown to smithereens when I board a plan...