A few months ago I wrote about the security guards at my school melting as they cooed and even kissed my son; policemen have changed their minds about giving me a ticket, anxious about me getting Baby home. This weekend I unexpectedly but gratefully accepted the assistance of airport employees, from security guards to grounds crew, as I traveled alone with Baby for the first time.
Image via WikipediaOne passes through a security check just to enter a Turkish airport, meaning I had to take Baby out of his stroller and fold it up to put it through the x-ray machine several times. On each occasion, security personnel enthusiastically offered to hold Baby while I dealt with his paraphernalia. Ditto for the people who take the stroller at the entrance to the plane and deliver it again when you land. No one was interested in helping with the pram; they just wanted to hold Baby!Until it came to the flight crew. In my darkest moment of need, when I actually had to ask for help, I was warned that they weren't allowed to take care of the baby. A steward reluctantly sat with my son while I ducked into the plane's tiny washroom to change my sopping wet clothes after baby's razor-sharp tooth burst through the water bottle he'd been gumming and somehow managed to empty within one second all over me; I was as suddenly and thoroughly soaked as I would have been in a dunk tank.
I think I know what Baby's Secret Weapon is!
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