In just about two weeks, we fly off to America, to Chicago and then San Francisco. We can’t wait to be there, with family, friends, and our good pal the sun. Yes, even if Chicago is frigid and blustery, it still features the sun, or at least a bright sky.
Ahh, but getting there. I just wrote a blog post for YourTango.com on the joys, or lack thereof, of the transatlantic flight with small kids:
“In a few weeks, my wife and I will undergo our annual marriage stress test—the transatlantic flight with small children.
There may be no greater parenting and marital challenge than surviving up to 25 hours together in a succession of claustrophic buses, airports and airplanes. This year, we have it easy—only an eight-hour flight from Stockholm to Chicago, with a trip to San Francisco a week later… plus the return flights, of course.
Last year, we went from Stockholm to Tucson, then from Tucscon to San Francisco and back (with an overnight delay throw in after we had already boarded the plane) and then, a day later, from Tucson to Stockholm …
Yet these trips are also never as bad as we fear. The kids do not ever really scream. We do not ever really scream. And even though every trip is different because our kids are at different ages and stages (this one will suck because our son is almost 2, meaning we did not pay for a ticket but we have a really big almost 2-year-old to put in our lap), there are a couple rules we follow to keep some semblance of control.”
You can read the rest here.