I misheard Mark when he said when we were going to leave. So we ended up leaving for the airport an hour later than we should have.
Luckily, we managed to get curbside bag check and through security quickly. We thought for sure that Arthur's applesauce, bananas, and diaper stuff would cause a problem. Nope. It was my carry-on -- I'm guessing it was the camera, batteries, and metal pencil case.
We took off at 10 PM. Arthur was the best baby on the plane. The worst baby on the plane was a cranky six month old who was angry at her parents for bringing her onto the plane.
Arthur mostly sat in his chair. OK. He kicked the back of the seat in front of him and tried to unlock the tray-table with his toes. He refused to go to sleep, and tried climbing up his seat. Finally he had a mini-melt down and collapsed on our laps. This didn't prevent him from kicking me in the pancreas.
Arthur slept through the violent, sex-filled movie and the rough landing at 3 AM (our time). I don't think Mark slept at all. I always forget that the night is shorter when one flies east.