It's possible. I couldn't tell.
As you know, you're two. Well, I don't know how well you comprehend that, but for argument sake, your mom and I know you're two. To almost anyone, you're two. You talk alot, and speak in full sentences sometimes, so maybe they think you're three. Maybe.
In front of us was a couple. In front of you specifically was the wife. It's possible she just had back surgery, or was suffering from a terrible 3rd degree sun burn - who knows. But any time your feet touched the back of her seat, she'd turn around and give your mom the stink eye.
A plane is an unfortunate space. It's made to be just barely comfortable - if that. It's a miracle - don''t get me wrong. It's the closest thing we have to time travel that doesn't involve a rocket or magic beans, but it's hours and hours of concentrated sitting.
Again, it was not full force kicking. It was a tap tap tapping, like when a dog wags its tail hoping for table scraps. It's annoying, but not unforgiving. Your mom did her best to reign you in.
"Please put your feet down, Nola. That's not our seat." (She said it loud enough the woman could hear.)
And for the most part, you complied. But you're two - which means two things. 1) You're going to forget and not fully understand property/personal space issues. 2) Your mom and I are not going to scold you and create a scene.
To note - immediately after we took off, the woman put her seat back. This was NOT cool. A) because we weren't even near a cruising altitude and B) because it further compromises the unfortunate space between rows.
And let's be honest. To recline on a plane is to go from 1 to 1.5 on a scale of 10.
After about three hours in (as we began to circle O'hare), the woman turned around in her seat.
"C'mon! Three hours? Seriously?"
"Excuse me?" Your mom was taken aback.
"Can you not keep your child from kicking my seat?"
"She's two."
"Who's the parent?"
"What? That's rude, ok? My daughter is sick. And she's been sick for days. It's a miracle she's even alive."
Yes, somehow this is what your mom said. No, you were never close to expiring. You just had a cold. I knew it was too much. I'm sure your mom knew it was too much. I don't think the woman even heard. She turned around, shook her head, and complained to her husband.
Again, a plane is an unfortunate space. There is no privacy, it's loud, everyone is uncomfortable and belted in, no one wants to be there. There was nothing I could do.
Your mom turned to me.
"Can you believe that? That's so rude."
"I know. I'll take care of it."
"What? What are you going to do?"
"I'll take care of it."
For the next 45 minutes I went over my speech.
"I'm sorry our daughter was kicking your seat. But you should know we held her in our laps when you put your seat back - which was immediately after takeoff. Also, she's only two. She doesn't understand about kicking. She barely understands about jumping - which she's actually getting good at. Further, our daughter doesn't sleep on planes. In that way she's like me. I can never sleep on a plane. Our daughter is overtired. Exhausted really. My wife is an incredible mother. She is very patient and loving. This is our only child and together we are still learning what it is to parent. On a plane, in a confined space, we feel it's inappropriate to scold our child - not because we let her run roughshod, but because she is a sensitive girl and we know from experience she will cry and scream and carry on. She does not like to disappoint us. And it is not for us to make everyone on this place miserable from her wailing. In some ways you are a sacrificial lamb, and again, I apologize. We did our best to keep her from touching your seat short of tying her legs down."
Something like that.
After we landed, and came to a stop, I immediately got up and leaned over the seat.
"Excuse me, ma'am? Ma'am?"
(I thought your mom would like that. Ma'am instead of Miss.)
"Ma'am."
The woman and her husband turned around and looked up.
"I'm sorry our daughter was kicking your seat. But-"
"Oh, that's ok. We totally understand. We have kids of our own."
"Well, when you had your seat back-"
"I know. We appreciate that. That was very kind. Thank you. It's ok. We undestand."
"Ok."
I sat back down. Your mom looked at me. No, that's not right. She GLARED at me. She wanted nothing more than to stab me.
Repeatedly.
(Maybe it's good they don't allow cuttlery on planes anymore.)
After we got home, and all jets had cooled, your mom and I concluded that next time we fly, we'll get a pre-emptive Starbucks 'Sorry, I have a toddler' card. And that would be our flight plan.
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