016 – Melbourne to Hobart – Cinderella Story

So there we were, seconds away from boarding our plane and scoring another notch in the win column for Team Bearss vs Airline Regulations, when the gate check attendant uttered those fateful words, “Would you mind just checking to see if your carry-ons will fit in this rack?”

As I looked at our overstuffed bags, that we had to drive over with our RV just to get the zippers closed, I was less than optimistic.

I gave it a shot anyway. It was a scene reminiscent of trying on the glass slipper…unfortunately, our bags were evil step sisters…

We tried the innocent doe-eyed “But, we’ve taken them as carry-on before” move, to no avail.

After being told our bags would have to stay behind and wait for the next flight, we quickly switched strategies and began to deliver a coordinated flurry of blows in a blind and confuse approach.

Britt stuck out her bottom lip and started pouting and babbling on about how all Ciel’s baby stuff was in the bags and she was going to die a horrible death without her onesies, twosies, threesies (with matching accessories), while I got on my knees (with Ciel strapped to my chest) and started opening bags and pulling out random “essential” baby gear and tossing it around.  Ciel bobbed back and forth like a buoy in a typhoon, all to the chorus of Britt’s concerned-motherly cries.

“Diapers! Get those!”, “We need wipes, too!”, “My nursing pads!”, “Don’t forget the breast pump!”, “Pumpkin-corn puree!” , etc…

Between Britt’s angst, Ciel’s shaken baby syndrome, and the fact that the plane was waiting to taxi (did I mention we were last in line to board), the crew took pity on us and let us off with a warning.

We gathered up all our belongings in our arms and headed off to the tarmac, leaving a trail of genuine “Oh, thank you so much!”’s, and “We’re really sorry!”’s in our wake, successfully masking the subtle triumphant gleams in our eyes…I guess our Fairy Godmother was looking out for us after all.