It had been decades since I’d last flown with little ones, so admittedly I was a bit curious/concerned/terrified of what the experience might hold in store as I prepared to fly with my daughter and 1-year-old and 4-year-old grandsons from Chicago here to Southern Oregon as her family resettles out West. With son-in-law Dan driving/towing the family vehicles cross-country, I volunteered to be the second adult to help wrangle the kids (and car seats and luggage). We flew from Midway on Southwest to Seattle, with a connecting flight from SeaTac on to Medford. The complication (and greatest concern) came in the form of having to switch airlines (to Delta) in Seattle. (Don’t ask, but the reasons had to do with vouchers and miles to be used.)

Navigating Midway early Monday morning was a breeze. We dropped off four large bags (including 4-year-old Sean’s car seat) with the curbside Skycaps and made our way inside with baby James in his stroller/car seat combo, Sarah and I with hands-free backpacks and Sean pulling his own small roll-aboard bag. Sarah had been to this dance before, so she knew to head for the designated strollers and wheelchairs line. She also knew to have the kids’ birth certificates as well as her own ID in hand, and we zipped through security without having to remove liquids from our bags or our shoes.

The only glitch came when a minor mechanical issue with our plane had us departing about an hour later than scheduled, making our adequate two-and-a-half-hour layover now disturbingly short. Putting those thoughts aside for the moment, we got aboard without trouble. (Southwest boards families with small kids between the A and B groups, even if they have a higher B or even C boarding number, so we were able to find a row in which to sit together.) The boys handled the four-hour flight very well, without even a peep out of James during takeoff and landing, when the change in air pressure can torment little ears.

Our game plan for Seattle involved a divide-and-conquer strategy: Sarah would collect our baggage while I entertained the kids at a lovely playground space at the base of Concourse B in the main terminal. We’d then meet up to check in the luggage at the Delta counter and make our way to our gate in satellite Concourse S. Some complications arose as Sarah’s phone battery expired and Sean required a restroom stop (thank God for family restrooms!!!), and we eyed the clock as we stood queued behind a string of passengers served by a single baggage checker and trainee. No way would our bags make our flight, and perhaps we wouldn’t, either. Even if we got to our destination, we’d be sunk getting home without the checked car seat.

Relief flooded over us when I checked my phone and found an alert from Delta stating our flight was delayed one hour. I don’t think I’ve ever been so happy to see such a notification! It still took us a ridiculously long time to snake through an endless security line (no designated stroller/wheelchair lane at SeaTac, but we weren’t required to do the shoes/liquids thing when we finally got up front), but we made it on the train to Concourse S, got some lunch, changed the kids’ clothes and even had a little time for plane-watching.

The kids were excellent passengers on our final leg, with Sean enthusiastically pointing out each and every volcano in the string of Cascade peaks along our route south.

It proved an exhausting day, but, really, the logistics of the trip made it so and not the children. No matter the savings, I don’t think I’d ever willingly change airlines mid-journey with kids in tow again. I think SeaTac could make its processes easier for those dealing with physical challenges and small kids, too. For now, I’m just so happy to no longer have a long flight separating me from my grandboys!

— Patty Vanikiotis, associate editor/copy editor