Tis the season to be slightly breathless

[ailbhe]

I'm home! Both children are asleep in their beds upstairs. My mother's flight has landed, a mere six hours late, and she should be in a taxi soon, arriving here around 00:15. Linnea was an absolute star while travelling; I was so proud of her I almost cried, several times. She did exactly what she was told except twice, and neither of those were important things. She walked stoically all over Dublin Airport and Heathrow Terminal 1; she marched through the security gates bravely; she accepted without whining that she couldn't have anything to drink while we queued for thirty minutes to get through security; she sat with her seatbelt fastened until we were airborne; she ate what was given to her without complaint - and it was airport and airplane food, mark you - and she ran to her Daddy.

I was only about 40 minutes late but we had to rush through check-in because traffic in Dublin was horrible and we were late. Then no-one knew which flights were going and which weren't, so it was all a bit vague. I got some very definite information, took Linnea to the food hall, and as soon as I'd paid for her water saw a screen showing that my flight was boarding immediately, so we sprinted. We boarded over an hour later.

I am so proud of Linnea.

(Emer slept and ate and slept and ate; no problems until the taxi ride home when she was stuck in a car. She hates cars.)