In two hours I’m going to do something I’ve never done before. I’m going to fly to Europe. Well, given that I’ve been to 34 of its countries, lived over yonder for a couple years, and work as a Best of Europe tour guide, I should amend that.
In two hours I’m going to do something I’ve never done before: I’m going to fly to Europe in the company of a five year-old. Now that, that is going to be a new experience. Luckily for me, he’s a remarkable example of the kind (Dutch pun intended) and we are well stocked with a game-thingy, colored pencils, reusable pirate stickers, and as a backup: homeopathic sleep-assisting herbal spray. Left up to my own devices, I would bring one of those Amazon blow-dart thingymajigs, but the buzzkills at the TSA would probably “confiscate” it to give to their kids. But all things considered, I consider us terribly well prepared. Which begs the question:
Are we terribly unprepared? Will the other passengers reach Holland to the announcement “Please use caution when opening overhead bins, as contents may have shifted during flight when they were pushed aside to fit either a five-year-old captive or a thirty-five-year-old asylum seeker”?
What else should we bring? Now that it’s far too late to do anything about it. But I can land, near the dam on the river Amstel, and see if any of your perceptions, predictions, and predilections were accurate. And perhaps add additional supplies for the return trip. Are kindergartner-sized hamster wheels VAT deductible?
And in case that beloved foreign land below the sea (level) snacks on minutes and devours hours, as I know it can, I wish all y’all a very happy holidays. In whatever way that means to you as an individual. (And if the holidays are not as chipper for you as the advertisers whisper and wail is obligatory, you can check out four things you can do if the holidays are hard for you.)