I have a new definition of hell. Hell is traveling with a small child. I know, you were all spending MASS amounts of time wondering where the Wiz was, and most importantly, how the flight went. Well, the flight out was relatively uneventful. The gate agents were fabulous, and changed our seats to bulkhead, and seated nobody next to us, so we had the entire bulkhead to ourselves. This allowed room for garbage bags, treat bags, and for the toddler to wonder about between parents and siblings in relative ease. I don't know what, if any, bad deeds those gate agents have done in their lives, but this good karma made up for all of it. Probably. Depending on what bad deeds they could have committed. But I digress. He pooped three times on the plane, but that was about as bad as it got. I even thought "Wow, this isn't even good material for the blog. All the tricks: the new toys, the food, are working. I mean, it's not the greatest flight in the world, we're still flying with a toddler, but it could be so much worse." Then there was the flight home, which proved just how much worse it could be. We decided that for the flight home, we would bring his car seat on the plane. We thought he might fall asleep in it. However, this was a completely full flight,so our four year old had to be the lap child instead of the toddler, who shall henceforth be known as "Demon Boy." Demon Boy decided that shrieking in high pitched tones for a good three hours of the flight wouldn't be a problem. (You think I'm kidding! THREE HOURS!) He also decided that the people behind us had committed heinous crimes punishable by having keys flung at them. Repeatedly. (They gave him the keys back, not me. Silly people.) Demon Boy also soaked through his diaper, his shorts, and his car seat. And if were thinking that all of it the water he chose to pour down himself, well, you would be wrong. And plus, the shrieking. Demon Boy did fall asleep. 5 minutes before the captain turned on the seat belt sign indicating our descent. He woke up when we landed, and he wasn't happy about it. It was mostly because of the demon, I think. I took the soaked kid, changed his diaper, and let him run around the airport with a filthy shirt, barefoot, and without his pants on, because really, I wanted everyone to know what a white trash family we were. After we got off the flight, DH left us outside while he left to get the car out of long term parking. During the 10 minutes he was gone, the following occurred: Poopy diaper. OK, change him outside, we're already total white trash, no big deal. 6 yr. old declared her intention that she had to go potty, and she wasn't talking about later. It was now or she was joining the no pants brigade. (It may be slightly acceptable to have a 1 yr old without pants, but its a different story for 6 year old. This is ageism at its worst, if you ask me) So, we left all of our luggage sitting by the curb unattended, (and we had a TON of luggage) and traipsed across the street to the nearest potty. On the way, the 4 yr. old performs her famous "Trip and Cry" routine, which this time had the added twist of spilling strawberry shake and skinning her knee. 6 yr. old is insisting we don't have time to help her up. I am seriously trying hard not to swear loudly. Eventually, everybody makes it to the potty on time, I reassure my child that we have band aids in the car, and Demon Boy is pretty much enjoying playing with the black scum that has accumulated on the bottom of his feet. We get back to the luggage that nobody has stolen or taken away to be sniffed for bombs, and DH pulls up to the curb. Finally, we can head home. Well, the demon has been exorcised, my sweet child is back, everybody's bathed and sleeping, and it will be a long time before I travel again. It's good to be home.