Thursday, 4 August 2011
I know, I know. The 7 seats will be explained soon enough. Actually it's not that hard. In fact, I'll just do it now.
H (unused ticket)
The Princess (Infant)
The Princess (Child)
Tough Cookie (Infant)
Tough Cookie (Child)
Yes, that's correct. Cheap Ass Air policy requires all children who have not yet turned 2 to sit on their mother's lap. Any other Real Airline would allow you the option of purchasing a seat for an infant or young toddler for either safety (approved airline seat) or comfort. But no. Cheap Ass has a general policy on customer comfort: no. If it might make your ride more enjoyable then absolutely not.
But Fancy here went all ape-shit on their ass when I discovered this little nugget, moments before leaving the Fancy home for the Airport Hotel, where we were forced to stay because trains don't run at UnGodly Hour. Which added another couple hundred quid to the exercise. Anyhoo, I digress. Ape-shit. There was screaming. And they graciously allowed me to keep the child seats I'd purchased, of course losing all luggage I'd paid for, and then also buy space for them on my lap. So I could check them in.
See, it makes perfect sense.
And this is one of the many joys of parenting. Learning that the world doesn't really love your kids as much as you do. I think the general public would prefer that small children were kept hidden away, never let into planes or restaurants, fed only self-cleaning astronaut food, bowels routinely cleansed so as to de-smell all nappies, you get the gist.
But I love my kids. For toddlers, they are some pretty well-behaved children. And I want them to see the world, try new things, see new places. So out we go.
I know every mother looks at her children and thinks that they are the most miraculous little critters ever. Of course, mine really are, but I have another excuse for walking around with my Fancy head in a cloud of Fancy Mother Love: The Minis didn't come to us easily. Stop, I know every child is a blessing and every mother loves her offspring to pieces. But sometimes when I look at them, I feel like there must be a catch. Because how these two got to me is really a miracle.
Anyhoo, that was a pretty long opening to what I wanted to say. Part of my Fancy Infertility story can be found In The Powder Room today. Just a bit of it. The part that came on IVF round #30gazillion. After years of tears and heartache. After H declared himself an expert on semen collection rooms. After Fancy here learned to shoot herself with hormones undetected while sitting at a sushi bar shoveling in an omikase. But only if you are curious.