What the hell's she supposed to do on an 11-hour flight? Read?
Oh, NA... just thought of something that was a lifesaver when Cherny and I flew to London. Cookies. Not for you... for the screeching child that still hasn't shut up 45 minutes after takeoff. And extras for when he starts up again 15 minutes later. Sure, the mom'll eventually stop taking them and instead subject you and 200 of your closest friends to the banshee wail of her dearest one, but at least she won't be teaching junior that he can have cookies
What was I saying? Hi.