Children without Borders
Sascha Zuger is the author of the New York State Moon Handbook (coming in June) and Dancing Under Water (forthcoming from HarperStudio in 2011), a memoir of her diving years.
“In the case of emergency, oxygen masks will drop from the ceiling. Those of you traveling with children, I’m sorry.”
The flight attendant’s announcement brought a giggle from the plane. Traveling with children can be an adventure. Traveling abroad even more so. As we approached the border on one such trip, it occurred to me that my child, at three years, was arriving at an age where there was no predicting what might issue from his mouth at the worst possible moment.
This was not always reason for concern. His first flight at the ripe age of ten days old was only realized by me placing his six pounds two ounces, tucked inside twelve pounds four ounces of blankets, on the desk of the ticket agent who had previously told me the flight was fully booked. I would need to wait four days for the next flight out of the third world country in which he was born.
I should have booked at least a month in advance, she scolded. I refrained from pointing out that I had no confirmed ETA on the birth of my son, so booking an advance ticket was somewhat of a challenge.
Instead I smiled, set him on her desk, and pretended to rifle through my bag. The boarding pass magically appeared within seconds, and we were on our way as soon as I could pry him away from the fifteen airline employees googly-gooing him.
After a quick stop at airport security, where it was deemed necessary to ask his sex to obtain the correct gendered security personnel to frisk him, booty to newborn Mohawk, we boarded his first of many flights. This began a long tradition of my son oiling the wheels of the system with a giggle and a smile.
But no more. He was now dangerously verbal. And as an attendee of a performing arts preschool, a miniature thespian so convincing that I nearly believed him when he explained one day that he was not my son, but a policewoman named “Taco.” They might just ask him the questions instead of me. And they might believe Taco, the three-year-old police woman, instead of me.
This realization made me nervous. It is not recommended to look nervous when crossing borders.
I held my breath as the immigration official leaned into the vehicle. Flipped through our passports. He switched from his suspicious you-are-likely-an-axe-murder glare to the welcome-to-our-country smile. I switched from my wide-eyed please-oh-please-let-me-into-your-country look to my thank-you-I-will-now-proceed-to-spend-many-US-dollars-here smile. The man was in the process of waving us through when my three-year-old, who happens to bear no physical resemblance to myself, piped up with a dramatic, quite well rehearsed, “I…am mama’s son.”
The waving hand turned mid-wave into a stopping hand. Forty minutes later, our re-verified paperwork turned inside and out by multiple unsmiling agents, we were again on our way.
Traveling with children is a learning experience. This trip, I learned to always pack an extra large jawbreaker.
New York State Moon Handbook
March 11th, 2010 | by Sascha Zuger 8 comments
1. Honeymoon bed breakfast on March 11th, 2010
Your trip sound like really adventure tour with kid and I agree with you that travel with kid ever learning experience. I also travel with my three years old kid and learn in every tour new thing and get every tour memorable.
In my last tour of Virginia we have stayed at Woodruff Inns, their natural beauty really gorgeous and we got one more memorable trip.
Best Regards,
2. cj omololu on March 11th, 2010
What a cutie!
This story reminds me of traveling to Nigeria with our 3 year old and six month old sons. We were at the airport, trying to get home when the immigration guy stopped us and demanded to look through our bags again saying that our papers weren’t right. My husband leaned over and explained to me that he wanted a bribe, but we didn’t have much money left. I started to sweat, panicked that we were going to be trapped there, while the immigration guy just kept shouting and waving our passports in our faces. Finally, our 6 month old had had enough and started his ear-splitting screaming. I held him but he wouldn’t stop, just raised the pitch even higher. After a few minutes of this, the immigration guy just shrugged, handed us our passports and waved us through saying, “Go. Just go.”
3. Jamie Pearson on March 11th, 2010
The fact that your son would choose “Taco” as his nom-de-je-ne-sais-quoi shows that he has really excellent comic instincts. I don’t think there’s a funnier word in the English language. You should be very proud!
4. Sascha on March 11th, 2010
CJ–
Scream therapy, excellent and most effective in the right situation.
“Taco” can sprout tears and make the circumference of his eyes multiply by five whenever presented with a situation where we enter a plane, train or bus and the ‘together seats’ are all taken. Handy. Occasionally, when people are studiously inspecting the window streaks or carpet lint to avoid eye contact, he has been known to add a lip quiver for effect.
S
5. Sascha on March 11th, 2010
Haha — thanks, Jamie. He needs them for our crazy life.
He’s currently campaigning for a little ‘enchilada’ to join the family…yep, pride runs deep.
6. DawnV on March 11th, 2010
Oh your son is too cute! And you’re a fab story teller :)
I love kids with a vivid imagination (and it sounds like your son has more than his share :)
Speaking of taken “together seats”… I was traveling with my sister and 4 year old nephew and we were the last ones to get on our connecting flight. As we walked down the aisle, a snooty flight attendant told us to take a seat and informed my sister that there was no way to seat her and my nephew together. My sis scanned the plane and hollered “Who wants a 4 year old?” A couple of people stood and offered to move so that she and my nephew could sit together. Perhaps you can try that next time the situation arises :)
7. Sascha on March 12th, 2010
Aww, thanks, Dawn!
Will add that to the list of seating strategies. Another good’un is to reach into the seat back pocket and hand the little baggie to child with overly reassuring, “Sweetheart, if you have to throw up — try for the bag this time.”
Just have to be prepared for flying carryons and laptops as child’s new seatmates dive to get away.
8. MummyT on March 17th, 2010
Hahaha… I love this crazy border stuff. It doesn’t get that much better as they get older. Saying in a loud voice “So Laos is a Communist authoritarian state, too, is it, Mum?” while literally crossing the bridge which divides Vietnam from Laos raised my eyebrows. Not the border guys’, though, thank god…
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