Tag Archives: airline family in Dubai

So how was your weekend?

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It’s something you don’t expect to hear when you ask someone about their weekend. But with my son attending a school where at least 60 per cent of the students come from airline families (who get super cheap tickets), I’ve learned not to bat an eyelid when mothers tell me about what they’ve been up to.

“Did you have a good weekend?” I asked a fellow mum.

“Yes … Actually we went to Johannesburg.”

Anyone else want to tell me about their Christmas in Lapland?

Anyone else want to tell me about their Christmas in Lapland?

“Really, just for the weekend?” I have to admit I was impressed – the South African city is a good 8 hours’ flying time from here, and that doesn’t include all the getting to and from the airport shenanigans.

“We had 24 hours there. Yesterday morning, we were in the lion park! The children loved it, especially as they’re doing Africa in class at the moment.”

“An amazing field trip!” I agreed. I’d just been looking at all the photos of big animals and African plains on the classroom wall.

“It was really last minute – my husband was flying there, and I woke up and thought ‘Why aren’t we going too?’ Half an hour later, we were on our way to the airport.”

“It’s not like me at all,” she added. “I usually plan everything far in advance.”

“Well good for you,” I said, as we were spat out the school gates – and I really meant it.

Sometimes you just have to grab life by the horns.

Overheard in the car

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For the past two years, we’ve been car-pooling with a French family to get Son2 home from school. Our son, and their son – let’s call him M – quickly became firm friends, and despite not being in the same class anymore, the boys’ friendship remains as strong as ever.

This makes for some loud banter in the car – which I tune in and out of, depending on what the subject matter is, like you would when listening to incessant chatter on the radio. Today, the boys were discussing their dads, who both fly the same aircraft (the A380 superjumbo), and I noticed some rather competitive one-upmanship going on.

Son2 picks up a toy plane lying on the back seat. “My daddy flies a big airplane, “ he says, proudly.

“My daddy’s airplane’s bigger,” counters M, raising the stakes considerably.

“Well, my daddy flies a double-decker airplane, that goes fast. Like this….WHOOOOOOSH,” says Son2, whizzing the toy jet through the air.

The monster-plane – overweight but fast!

The monster-plane – overweight but fast!

“My daddy’s airplane is super-big, and it goes super-fast!” replies M, injecting as much ‘wow’ factor into his voice as possible. “Faster than your daddy’s.”

Remember, they’re talking about the same aircraft here.

I glance in the mirror and see that Son2’s face is a study in not-to-be-outdone affrontedness. It isn’t one of his normal faces; it’s like he’s picked it up from somewhere and is trying it on for size.

Son2’s hand then turns into a blur of motion as he illustrates high speed, and out of his sweet mouth comes an effortless – and blatant – lie. “Well, my daddy flies the Blackbird.”

“WHOOOOOOSH,” he adds, for effect.

Little boys – always comparing!

Post-holiday blues

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You’d think a six-day mini-holiday to the UK shouldn’t take six days to recover from, but somehow this whole week has been all about getting back into the swing of things.

The time difference and arriving back in Dubai on the milk flight at 5am meant the boys then slept until past midday, setting me up for a particularly trying problem in small children: INSOMNIA. The Scrooge of Christmas travel.

Because it’s not like you can just tell them to count sheep, is it?

No, no, that would be far too easy. Instead, for several nights, between the hours of 9 pm and 1 am, the boys pummelled me with all kinds of strange symptoms, from “I’m scared, stay Mummy, please!” to “I’m going to vomit!” (Son 1), singing for two hours straight (Son 2), hunger pangs and even sleep walking (Son 1).

Trying to count sheep with Son 2 just turned into bonus stimulation time

Trying to count sheep with Son 2 just turned into bonus stimulation time

Son 1 would have re-set much quicker if it wasn’t for the fact that Son 2 was adamant his insomnia should be shared.

“Are you AWAKE?” he’d bellow at his brother, nearly raising the roof of his bunk-bed (and I couldn’t separate them because they’re really dependent on each other and hate to sleep alone).

“WAKE UP!”

Then Son 2 got his hands on the duck clock in their room and set the alarm off: “QUACK, QUACK, QUACK, QUACK QUACK!”

I’m surprised you didn’t hear the racket going on in their bedroom.

DH was safely ensconsed on the other side of the world (in Australia and New Zealand) for the first two days of their nocturnal shenanigans. Happily, he returned on the third day, only to fall fast asleep at 8.30 pm with jet lag of the polar-opposite kind.

Oh the glamour of our jet-setting ways!