Mommy, why are there life jackets on the plane?

Travelling with kids is always an experience. It is an extra special treat when airplanes are involved.

I recently took a family trip to Orlando, Florida with my husband and two boys (aged 7 and 4). We left our house in Ottawa at 6:50 AM, drove to Syracuse, killed an hour at Panera Bread, hung out in the Syracuse airport, flew to JFK airport in New York, killed 3 hours at JFK, flew to Orlando, and finally made it to my parents' rental townhouse at 8:30 PM.

All things considered, the kids were very well behaved. It was a long day, but we made it through relatively unscathed and with a few memorable moments. Here are some of my favourites:

1. On the drive to Syracuse, my 4-year-old announced that he wanted to say good-bye to Canada. He insisted that a proper good-bye required yelling "Good-bye Canada!!!" at the top of his lungs out an open window. This made perfect sense to me until he informed us somewhere around Prescott, which is some distance from the border, that it was time to say his good-byes. Of course, we had to repeat the performance at the actual border crossing, where he added a bonus "We'll miss you!" at the end of his farewell.
2. While exploring the children's airplane exhibit and play area at the Syracuse airport, my 7-year-old son proclaimed in a loud voice that it would be really cool if the plane were to crash and explode with a big BOOM (or something to that effect). While glancing nervously around to see whether any fellow travellers had heard his outburst, my husband and I admonished our dear son, and I silently prayed that he would not make a similar statement (or God forbid mention a bomb) within earshot of the airport security personnel.
3. My 7-year-old perused the airplane safety card as we waited to take off in Syracuse. "Mommy, why are there life jackets on the plane?" he asked. "Oh, that's just in case we need to land in water. But that's not going to happen... Hey, would you look at all the luggage being loaded onto that plane across from us!" But he was not to be distracted. "You mean, like, if we crash?" I didn't get a chance to answer that. "Hey, what are these things hanging out of the ceiling?" he asked, pointing to the pictures in the safety card. "Well, that's in case the cabin pressure changes in the plane." "What does cabin pressure mean?" "It's just the air inside the plane. If there's not enough air, you put on one of those masks to get air. But don't worry - we won't need those. Flying is perfectly safe." He looked at me skeptically, and then was silent for a while. Finally he asked, "Nothing is going to happen today, though, right?" I assured him nothing would. As the plane started to take off, he said loudly, "I feel scared that the plane is going to crash." By this point, he was starting to make me nervous. As I struggled to keep my composure and practice yogic breathing, while trying to loosen my grip on the armrests, I heard my 4-year-old say from the row in front of us, "Daddy, I'm scared we're going to crash! I don't want to crash, Daddy!" I didn't hear Daddy's response. I was too busy shushing and reassuring my elder son (and myself) in between deep, cleansing breaths.
4. I think it was on the second flight, from JFK to Orlando, that they started complaining about the smell. I was sitting in a row of 3 seats with the two boys, while Hubby read his book and relaxed in the row in front of us. The complaining started after the loud whoosh that accompanied a gust of air entering the cabin of the plane (the "cabin pressure" air, I guess. How do I know? I'm not an airplane specialist or whatever). Anyway, Elder son asked me, "What was that noise?" As I gave him the cabin-pressure-air answer, he exclaimed, "Ugh, it stinks!", and blocked his nose with his fingers. Following suit, Younger son promptly squeezed his nose shut. Elder son: "It smells like ginger ale!" Younger son: "Yeah, it smells like ginger ale!" Elder son: "No, not ginger ale, something else... Why does it smell like that, Mom?" Me: "I don't know." Younger son: "I can't breathe when I have my nose blocked like this!" Me: "Breathe through your mouth." Younger son: "I CAN'T." Me: "Yes, you can!" Elder son: "I know what it smells like. Like a dentist's office." You know, I couldn't really argue with him there. The sterile, artificial-smelling air was kind of similar to the smell in a dentist's office. Younger son: "I can't breathe when I block my nose, Mom!" Me: "Then don't block your nose. You'll get used to the smell soon." What I wanted to say was, "Come on, suck it up! Do you really think I can do anything about the cabin pressure air smell?" but I didn't think that would go over very well.
   

Ah, the joys of travel. Good times.