Keep Your Projectile Child Off My Child's Flight. Please?

After weighing the extraordinarily high risk of getting thumped on my often less-than-adorable head, I've been mulling the story over for several days. In my wise older age, I'm learning to blog with delay--lest my 'you stupid Stacey, now I've gotta sprinkle 'the dust' on you tonight' fairy visits. Which always leaves me to cringe as I read what I wrote in the wee hours of that very morning. So this time, I waited.

About the American Airlines incident with the autistic child. I've read the blogs, heard the shock in the indignant mommies as they came together to discuss this. And I empathize--I haven't got anything against autistic children and I consider myself reasonable. In fact, I readily admit I know little to nothing about autism, and know that could change quickly as my children approach the age they will settle down and start families. I know I'm not immune, I really do.

But in going from news article to news article, one thing keeps running through my mind and I still can't shake it, so I'll just say it. The carry on? The one the mother begrudgingly finally allowed to be properly stowed overhead? The kid that wouldn't stay buckled in his seat belt and refused to sit still long enough to take off? As a mother who just last week put her 16 year old son on an airplane to fly halfway across America to visit friends, and will pray again this week that he returns in a few days safely, I take great offense with this mother. I happen to love my child dearly too--and would not take kindly to finding out the airline didn't do it's job to KEEP PROJECTILE BAGS AND CHILDREN FROM FLYING ACROSS THE PLANE ON TAKEOFF FROM SERIOUSLY INJURING MY CHILD.

There! I said it, I believe it, and I will not take it back!

On a less life-threatening note, but a very valid one nonetheless, Cody had a 40 minute layover in Detroit. In that time, he had to get off the plane, find someone to verify where he needed to be, get directions, and walk the 5000 gates down to where he would walk up just in time to whip out his ticket, ID, and board the flight to his destination. No time left to spare (on my way to better days...no time left to spare...I found myself some wings!--replaces the music I'd usually insert her). I'm not sure it's right to expect everyone to sit patiently on the runway and wait for your kid's meltdown to subside before it was clear to secure items/child before takeoff. It's not about ignorance, intolerance, meanie-ness, lack of compassion and or understanding. I'm not like that.

There are many facets to this story, and this is one I wanted to throw out there. Because I'm not okay with vilifying the airline for following procedure when my kid could be inadvertently at risk. There! I said it, that felt mighty fine!