On the verge of our second family vacation since Twinification, a significant discussion point in the Pseudonymous Household as of late has been the Twins’ maiden airplane voyage. How will we keep them occupied/quiet/sedated? What do we do if all six hours of the flight are fortified with stereophonic banshee shrieks and full-body flails? And most importantly, is there an alcohol consumption limit for passengers–and if so, how can we beat the system?
Having scoured these Internet waters for answers, I made a startling realization–the answer was right there under my invisible stick-figured nose all along, in the form of my esteemed colleague Barmy Rootstock, self-insisted parenting guru and author of one of my very favorite blogs, the hilarious I’ve Become My Parents.