One of last night's dinner guests had a whale of a tale (or was it a wail?) to tell about the adventure of flying home to Seychelles from Australia last week with her fourteen-month-old son ... a tale of misery as she was forced to face hour after hour of cramped, confined mothering of a very grumpy boy after having almost every single treat she'd packed to keep her son happy confiscated before she left the ground.

Half a day's supply of juice, milk and yogurt, jars of baby food and pudding pops were all confiscated, bit by bit, as she made her way through the various stages of security only days after new regulations went into effect at Australian airports.

As on all long-haul flights, flight attendants are too busy to answer call bells quickly, and explaining that to a little one does not do a whole lot of good in the way of calming. The fact that planes are almost always understocked in many items doesn't help either, and no kid under the age of at least seven or eight is going to be satisfied with the news that the last of the juice has just been served up in mimosas in First Class.

And what if your child has no interest at all in orange or apple juice, but only drinks mango? Or can't stand the flavor of whichever milk happens to be available in the galley?

These days, apparently, child and parent are outta luck.

Adoption travel will be just that much more complicated due to children and parents new to each other. I can not imagine what must go through the mind of a little one removed only days before from everything ever familiar, then handed over to people who look, smell and sound completely different from anyone they've seen before, THEN crammed into row 16, seats A & B, of a noisy tin tube that makes ears pop and nasal passages dry out.

If new mom and dad have made peace with the newest family member through offerings of special yummies, then all those yummies are tossed in a bin next to the x-ray machine never to be seen again ... or not for 14 or 28 or 36 hours, anyway, when real shopping can happen ... NO ONE is going to be happy.

My immediate reaction to my friend's rendition of her travels was to suggest a handoff to flight attendants upon boarding.

"I have nothing left that will make my child happy on this hellish flight," a mother could say, "so, I'll be in 16 A ... sleeping ... while you keep the baby happy with whatever you can find in your little kitchen thingy."

Okay. Not a good idea. But tempting ... mighty tempting.

For more info, see the next post.