Two great talkers will not travel far together. ~ Spanish Proverb
 

Sunrise on the Royal Observatory. Greenwich Park, London.
Location: BlogsWallis Blog    
Posted by: supersi Friday, August 24, 2007
So here we are, safe and sound back in good ole T.O. A big thanks to Catherine who accompanied us on the journey from our house to Heathrow. Overcoming rush hour masses, miserable weather, heavy suitcases, a baby in a baby carriage, a dire case of tube-ophobia (on poor Catherine’s part) - we made it to terminal 3 with nary a pooped-out nappy.

When we checked in we started to realize some of the benefits of travelling with a newborn (yes, there are some!). First of all, you get to check-in at the Special Services desk and avoid the entire queue. Secondly, the kind ladies behind the desk will merely smile at your 200lb overweight bags when they see the little one cooing in her stroller. And, if you can encourage a few earth-shattering squeals when you take your seat, you may even find that half the cabin has relocated and given you several rows to yourself. Bonus!

On check-in, I almost raised a level three security alert after mistakenly asking for a bayonet instead of a bassinette. “No trouble at all, sir. Our bayonets are guaranteed to fit all sizes of high powered rifles. You may also be interested to view our range of stun grenades and short-range ballistic missiles in our onboard duty free catalogue.”

In spite of leaving home 5 hours before our flight departed, we did just barely board on time. It took us ages to get through security. Not because of long queues, but because everyone in the line up wanted to ooh and aww over the little baby. The passport control was pretty smooth. The lady looked through our three passports and said, “Awwww.” (I think she was looking at mine).

After the baby bag went through the x-ray machine, a security officer took Melody aside to go through the contents. I saw the lady motion to me and say, “Come here! We have a job for you!” I didn’t really get what she meant, and good thing too, because the “job” was a breast milk sip-test. Mmmm MMMM! Apparently you must take a drink of any liquids you bring on that you claim to be for your baby. I’m not sure what that proves. I mean, you might as well bring hydrochloric acid onboard because your reaction to sipping that and breast milk is going to be roughly the same. I concluded from the look on Melody’s face that breast feeding is highly overrated.

The flight was completely uneventful though. Arwyn slept most of the time (soundly in her bayonet) and didn’t even give the poor old man beside us a heart attack. Now it’s time to introduce our little girl to her Canadian heritage. Bring on the Tim Horton’s!
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