My American Boy.

Last week, Max & I headed to Brisbane to make him an American.  What a trip we had. If I had been doubting my faith in humanity, it would’ve been 100% restored after our trip. People were so, so kind.

I realise now that Max may never again sleep on an airplane unless he is totally sedated. Mr Social just can’t help himself. See people; will play. Fortunately, the flight attendants and fellow passengers were just as eager to play peekaboo with him as he was with them. He was in top form and we all had a good laugh… even though it was hours past bedtime.

We had breakfast for two on our very tall balcony.

I had the most amazing view:

Max got his fill of his favourite past time – people watching – as we sat on the streets of the great, big city. He delighted in giving little waves, big smiles and “hiiiiiiiiiiis” to the people passing by and my heart melted as grown men in expensive suits could not walk by without stopping – yes, stopping – to smile back, say hello, and stroke his cheek.

It was rush hour. They were busy and important. But he was irresistable.

And I think he did just as much for their hearts as they did for mine.

The lady driving a bus thought so too. Stopped at a light, she opened her door just to play peekaboo with the happy little boy sitting on the brick wall next to his mama.

Be still my beating heart…

We had challenges. Like the minor mommy meltdown that occurred when we landed and I found out that the train had left (there were no more coming), the only rental car with a car seat would cost $120 for 24 hours, and a taxi with a car seat would cost $80 (one way)… and include a two hour wait. Umm, hello. Its 10p and bedtime was more than 3 hours ago. There were tears. And there was a very nice man who helped… we made it and we didn’t have to hitchhike.

We had victories. Like becoming an American.

We ran into friends… and friends of friends… and people we worked with long ago. (We felt famous.)

We made sweet memories… like playing ball on the floor of the PNG Consulate (yes, we decided to run some work errands while we were at it).

And we relished the moments… like walking down the street and watching a bride being walked down the aisle by her daddy…

And sweet sleeps on mommy’s chest…

And blow out poos in the middle of the city without a bathroom in sight.

We laughed hard. So hard the camera phone kept getting blurry. And we stayed awake the entire plane ride back. Laughing some more.

Oh how I love my American boy.


4 thoughts on “My American Boy.

  1. Pingback: Thickening My Skin | The Hoover Tribe

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