We got onto the plane just fine, and the flight attendant even made sure we had our own row. The timing for takeoff worked out perfectly. Mom even got a bottle made up without me noticing, so when we were taxiing, almost ready for take off, she just popped it in my mouth and everything was smooth. I didn't have any problems with my ears for take off. Happy Max. Then the excitement began.

Mom only gave me about five minutes to bask in the glory of another bottle, expertly drained, before she stole my spotlight. After exhausting the air sickness bags in our row, she rang for the flight attendant to inform her that we needed restocking. Not to be outdone, I decided I needed to reclaim my rightful place as center of attention, so I released a doozie into my diaper. When Mom felt like she had the legs to do it, she took me to the bathroom to change me. This is when she realized that I'd had a blow-out - something I haven't done in months. Good timing, eh? So she's trying to get my clothes clean enough to get me back to our seats - where my change of clothes is - when she starts to sweat and feel light-headed. Again, she's trying to steal my show. So I started to scream bloody murder. Of course, this doesn't make her feel any better. Again, she rings for the flight attendant. Next thing we know, the flight attendant is telling Mom that they'd take care of me, and that Mom needed to sit down and get some oxygen. Mom didn't realize it, but she had passed out in the bathroom, with a hand on me the whole time so I wouldn't roll off the changing table. That was the last I saw of Mom the whole flight. She sat in the back of the plane throwing up and taking oxygen. I got to sit in our regular seats with the flight attendants, and with a very nice passenger sitting across the aisle, who was kind enough to hold me during landing, and sing me "You Are My Sunshine."

I had a great flight. Slept a lot. Screamed a bit. Ate more than my fair share. Drank water from a bottle for the first time (liked that). Met the entire flight crew. It was great. Mom didn't enjoy the flight quite so much, but was very grateful for the kindness of strangers. When we arrived in San Diego, I got to ride in Mom's lap in a wheelchair as we were pushed through the terminal to meet Gramma and Papa at baggage claim. Pretty eventful for our first plane ride just the two of us. I wonder what's in store for the trip back to Minnesota next week!