flying poop

My most memorable poop-up-the-back experience [come on, you know you have one] occurred on a flight back from visiting family in Oklahoma when J was three months old. My 6-feet-4-inch husband had the aisle seat and, therefore, graciously agreed to take our son to the back for his third complete outfit change of the day.

Less than a minute after he left for the back, he passed in a panic toward first class, spreading our son’s bouquet in his wake. I watched as he talked to the flight attendant, curious about what was going on. I couldn’t read her lips since her hand was lifted to her nose.

He came back to our seat with eyes the size of toonies. “There’s no change table on board! What are we going to do?”

The flight attendant came back by about then and suggested our tray tables might be our best bet. And you just thought they were for holding your peanuts! Who knew they were so multifunctional?

As it turns out, a change pad draped across two tray tables serves as a pretty good change table in a pinch -- although you might get a different story on the other passengers’ blogs.




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