I normally don’t have to worry about bodily fluids ending up in my carryon bags when I fly. I also normally don’t have to worry about them making noise, emitting foul smells, or squirming so much they tip themselves over in the bathroom stall.
|‘I’m in a glass case of emotion!’
– Ron Burgundy, Anchorman
(also, a few years later, Frankie the dog)
There was nothing normal about yesterday’s OH –> CA flight. There will also, most likely, be a lack of normalcy in general from here on out.
Chico and Franklin-the-new-guy (Chief Frank, Leader of the Bear Cubs, as deemed by Mini Twin) are getting along as well as two sub-15 lb, jerky little asshole dogs might.
Ok, that’s not fair. They are “full of personality.” However, when those personalities are polar opposites, an attention-whore has to learn to share mommy’s love, and legs are lifted over the other’s food bowl, it turns a little more towards “jerky asshole”
But we’re working on it. I have zero remorse about addition #4 to our family.
What I do have is a little anxiety while I sit here, wondering what kind of terrorizing has gone on in the apartment while B and I have been at work. I keep picturing my new running shoes sitting on the floor. My unpacked (open) suitcase in the bedroom. I’ve caught myself twice googling “steam cleaner rentals near Irvine, CA” as I mentally invision hundred dollar bills slowly burning to ash in the form of our security deposit.
But really, I just hope they are unharmed and happy when I walk in the door. Preferably no carpet scrubbing will be required, but really, two still-living dogs will be fine. And also, that my running shoes are still in one piece.
If flying with kids is like flying with a dog (and I can’t shove them in a carryon), I’m not playing,