We’ve finally arrived at home, after our first attempt to get to our house was aborted. It’s been a week and a half on the road with a rowdy, tyrannical toddler and I’d be lying if I said I was still having fun. Sleeping in my own bed is going to be so awesome tonight … to bad it will only last two nights!
Now I wasn’t sure what to expect at first, traveling by plane with X. There was trepidation, and definitely a little dread, but I didn’t know what was going to go down with him. Our little trip over to Toronto was meant to be a dress rehearsal before the main event, moving to another continent. I was both happy and terrified by what happened on the trip.
Happy because X seems to be a really good traveler – take offs and landings were no problem. When people asked how he did on the plane, I always respond “great” with a big smile. If they ask me to further explain, I tell them “he only cried for one of the three hours.” The person questioning me might blanch, but for me, yes, this is good. It was because we were trying to make him sleep, he always cries that much when he goes to sleep.
I’m terrified because X is apparently becoming a violent sociopath, or at the very least obsessed with weaponry. At our first hotel we were staying at, we had a suite with a full kitchen, which was absolutely amazing for us. I’d say it’s pretty much a must for any kind of longer stay with a child. X immediately loved the place because there was tons of room to run around. And we were cooped up there. Anyone who just spent the last week in Toronto can tell you the weather was shite. We spent everyday either in the hotel, walking in malls or trying to find an indoor child-friendly activity along with every other parent in Toronto during spring break. Ugh. Anyway, X got really comfortable in the hotel room, and we were comfortable with him in it – it seemed to be fairly baby proofed.
Until the second morning when we woke up to discover that he had stealthily slipped out of the bed in the morning. He wiggles his butt around and hangs onto the blankets and quietly glides down to the floor. Super cute to watch, but he’s quickly becoming some sort of Houdini when it comes to escaping us. I heard some rustling in the kitchen and came out of the bedroom to find X standing at the open cutlery drawer, two steak knives drawn, grinning up at me. Thank god he didn’t stab himself (or us) but boy was he not happy when I took those away!
A few days later, we were sleeping on an air mattress in my cousin’s basement. I don’t know how we managed to sleep through this, other than the fact that X spent most of the night sleeping on each of our heads, so we were pretty tired. He less-than-stealthily went through all our luggage, found Z’s toiletry case, opened it despite the closed clasp and took out his razor. He then proceeded to climb the stairs to find potential victims, I guess. My cousin must have spat out his coffee when he found our little guy standing at the edge of the living room, grinning at him with razor upraised. X always seems to be grinning when he’s holding sharp blades.
Again, it’s a miracle he didn’t cut himself, although I’m starting to give the little guy the side eye whenever he’s around knives.
The traveling itself went well – I am always surprised at how resilient these little people are when you throw things at them, something I hope will help us over the upcoming month. Two more days before the movers take all our stuff away, then we’re on the count down to the big move to Geneva!