On Being Great Parents

We're in Las Vegas on our layover.  Nathan and Neeps have been diligently doing laps around the waiting-area, with the occasional waving-pit-stop (waving is a brand-new Neeps skill as of today, and I'm pretty sure a direct result of all the attention he's been receiving).  Slowly but surely the two of them make their way back over to me, as it's drawing near to boarding time.

An airline associate comes up to our small family group and says he's been assigned to help us with pre-boarding.

"Gee, how did you know it was us?" I grin, gesturing with my crutches.

"Well," he says with laugh, "In my twenty years of working here, you're the first 'wheelchair-with-infant-in-lap' I've ever come across."


Neeps smiles and giggles for the various strangers who are more than willing to be charmed by him on their walk down the aisle.  He nurses lustily during takeoff, and is plenty pleased about being passed back and forth between Nathan and myself once we reach cruising altitude.  We have an empty seat next to us, so sometimes he just looks out the window in wonder.  Sometimes he fusses a bit, so we we play the, "Who can you see when I hold you up high?" game, which seems to work pretty well as it generally results in peals of laughter and reaching for strangers.  Sometimes he sleeps, and I balance my tray-table on the curve of his little rump, my magazine perched on top of that.

After the flight multiple people come up to us, to compliment us on what great parents we are.  It feels good to hear, but we also feel a bit like frauds- as I say, time and again, "Thank you, but the truth is that we're just lucky: he's a great baby."

And he is.

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