Poop Shute

Travel Journal Entry From London Trip 07/31/04

I Forgot The Benadryl?

I've been saying for years now that my kids will be raised by a hired nanny (exclusively) until the age of twelve, at which point they will be introduced to me. Incidentally, the nanny's name will be Consuela.

The woman sitting next to me at the gate has a very loud and very rambunctious little two-year-old boy with her. Someone cheerily pointed out the boy's loudness and rambunctiousness as if these were good qualities to have in a cabin-mate for a VERY long flight to London.

The child's mother smiled ruefully and replied "Yeah, and I forgot the Benadryl. Haha. It's going to be a long flight."

Not being a parent myself, that phrase confused me. Benadryl? Luckily she went on to explain. It seems that it's a widely known, old parental trick to give a loud little kid a shot of Benadryl before getting on a plane. It acts as a mild sedative and the child sleeps peacefully for hours. Or, at least if he doesn't sleep it will mellow him out a great deal.

Now that I know this fact, and now that I know that she forgot this magical elixir I feel like screaming at the top of my lungs "How in the name of all that is holy could you possibly forget something as important as the %$#@ Benadryl!"

After that outburst, I feel it necessary to say something regarding my feelings towards children. So far I actually like kids. A lot. IF AND ONLY IF the following conditions are true:

1 They're in a good mood.
2 They're not mine.

If I do have kids one day and they are reading these words I have written here... well...
In my defense, I am twenty-four years old as I write this and you guys are the furthest thing from where I am right now. Just because you are not a priority now does not mean you won't be later.