She turned her head every time I tried to hand her one of those products thoughtfully designed to entertain a baby but really don't. My 9-month-old daughter, Julia, was bored, fed up with and downright annoyed with all the brightly colored plastic.
How was I ever going to survive a six-hour flight between San Francisco and Hawaii with a baby?
Simple. Paper towels.
I'd stuffed about half a roll in my backpack because I figured they'd come in handy at snack time. Julia loves to eat and I'd pack a cornucopia of gourmet food: creamy eggplant hummus, mini falafel balls, roasted corn, chunks of feta, slices strawberries. I'd need the towels to control the mess.
After she'd bitten into peach and its sweet juices were trickling down her cheek, I pulled out a towel. She immediately grabbed it from my hands, squealing with delight. With her tiny fingers, she carefully inspected it and then slowly tore it into thin strips. Fifteen minutes later, I pulled out a second paper towel and then another. Soon we we were sitting amid a sea of shreds. It looked as if it had snowed.
I started to tie the towel pieces into bows and we threw them into the air and watched them slowly float down into our laps. Two hours. Two hours! Those paper towels kept us busy for a huge chunk of the flight. Yes, things got a little messy but it cleaned up easily and Julia never cried once during that entire flight. She was fully occupied with delicious food and paper towels. Next flight, I'm bringing a full roll.
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