I woke Isabella at 5:30 this morning. “Woke” might not even be the appropriate word here, because I don’t even know if she actually opened her eyes. She moved in slow motion, dressed, and gathered all of her worldly goods, draped her plush blanket around her body like a toga.
She was a delight on the ride to the airport, the walk from the off-site cheapo parking lot, on the monorail, to the check-in kiosk, through the line-up at the check-in kiosk service desk when the check-in kiosk breaks, through taking off her shoes, walking to find coffee, running to find our gate, and getting on the plane.
By delight I really mean exhausted monster. She was tired, cranky, sick of waiting, sick of walking, sick of dragging her too-small-for-her Tinkerbell rolling suitcase, sick of being hungry, sick of tripping over her blanket toga.
But then I pumped her full of sugar.
And then she became the poster girl for NO MATTER WHAT FACEBOOK ARTICLES TRY TO TELL YOU, sugar does actually cause hyperactivity in children because my child is sitting on the airplane pretending to be the announcer on the rides at Canada’s Wonderland “put your cameras down and keep your arms and legs inside at all times and enjoy your day at Wonderland!” except she’s trying to say it in Hebrew.
I am not above bribing my children with candy.
Not even one little bit.
I am possibly, however, regretting the decision to allow her to watch Teen Beach Movie so many times because now the six businessmen sharing our flight are getting a full re-enactment, including some interesting seat dancing moves.
Luckily Milwaukee isn’t a popular travel destination on Tuesday mornings.