It turns out that flying solo with a five year old—even in the midst of a pandemic, on the Sunday after Thanksgiving, with fairly rumbly turbulence, and arriving home late—is a dream compared to flying solo with the same child at the age of three. Not sure I could have handled this trip two years ago, but Kina and I are both older, wiser, and more patient with each other than we used to be. It also helps that she is a lot calmer with either of us alone than with both of us together; the impact of any minor inconvenience she suffered yesterday went no further than a scrunched-up brow or a brisk shake of the head. She made no enemies on this airplane.
Despite the fact that we did not experience an exciting emergency water landing, Kina was pleased with the whole affair and thanked the pilot as we disembarked. We are both exhausted and jet-lagged tonight, but my pride in the kid is solace enough. A+ flying kid experience, would travel again.
dad