On the Monday after the wedding, we got on a plane and went to Germany. This was your first plane ride. You behaved very well. I had had to tell you at the start of the flight to not kick the chair in front because it was 'The man's chair and he doesn't want to be disturbed." To your credit, you didn't disturb him at all after that. Instead, you just kept pointing to the chair gently with your tiny hands and saying,"Man's chair," to which I agreed.
We very nearly didn't make it onto the flight, Noah.
We left the hotel at what we thought was a reasonable time, but with the various shuttles and buses we needed to get to check in at Gatwick, followed by a huge queue, this is how much time we had to get on our plane: almost none.
The woman who checked in our bags told us we had to take your car seat to another conveyor belt thing. Looking at my watch, I asked her how far away our gate was. She smiled back coyly and said, "Very far." When I asked whether we would have time to drop off our car seat and make the flight, she looked at the time and then looked distressed. She didn't say we had enough time.
When we started making our way to the gate, we had to run. As soon as we left the queue, a voice came over the tannoy and said: "This is the last call to Dusselldorf. If you do not come to the gate now, we will remove your luggage from the plane blah blah blah." I couldn't hear it all because I was running with you under my arm like a surfboard.
When we (just) made it to the gate my arms and legs were like jelly and I was sweating and wheezing.
Your Mummy looked sublime.
Your Daddy needs to get fitter.
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