So after an extended vacation in the dirty south visiting family, the youngster and we have made it back to sunny California and once again reunited with The Captain. Our trip was a ton of fun and we got to see friends and family, a bunch met Mohawk for the first time. It was wonderful, but as it turns out, plane travel with a 6-7 month old is just as awful as you would imagine. The flight to Atlanta wasn't terrible, but the flight home was THE WORST. I had to resort to giving him wipes containers and usb cords etc etc to keep him happy. I gladly passed him to strangers to give my poor arms a break… A 4 hour flight feels like 50 when your rugrat wants a change of scenery every 30 seconds. I appreciated the willing 25 year old Marine, Derrick, for holding him often and letting him slobber all over his Beats by Dre. And the high school student sitting next to him for bouncing him and letting him look out the window. And the flight attendant, whose name started with a C, who would take him every time she passed by. People really are good. I was so grateful. And they thought they were going to get to sleep!!! HA! Sleep!?! Who needs sleep!?!? Speaking of sleep, we haven't been getting much in our house, so I apologize for the glacial pace at which I will be posting, but I'm back!