Me and my dad adventuring, circa 1982
You may have noticed that I do a lot of traveling with my kids. It’s partially because our family and friends have become increasingly spread out, location-wise, over the years – but mostly because I think that these experiences aren’t just “fun” (although they seriously are), they’re hugely valuable. I grew up with parents who took me everywhere – usually on the back of a motorcycle, as you can see – and it helped me learn how to be flexible, how to get along in new situations and with new people, and how to look for adventure everywhere. I’m grateful that they gave me that, and it’s a gift I want to give my own kids.
Anyway, I get tons of questions about this particular topic – namely how to do it without subjecting yourself to multiple consecutive hours of screaming and misery. It can be done, I promise. Today on The Scenic Route, I’m talking about all the big things that parents worry about when flying with a baby (everything from what to pack in the diaper bag to how to handle it when you can feel other passengers hating you), and revealing the one thing that will never occur to you to pack, and that you MUST.
Like, seriously must. (You can thank me later.)
{ Read about my cross-country travels (with a dose of chillax) here. }
