My mother had insisted on going early not to be hassled. As we arrived at the airport, she sent me off, because they would go through immediately to the little café in the duty free area, which my mother preferred to the restaurant in the public zone. So off I went.

They went to the check-in counter of Swiss to be told that the passport of my father’s was out of date by nine months and therefore not valid anymore. But a nice person from Swiss customs took it and went with my father to make a provisional prolongation. Meanwhile my mother was transferred to another counter to proceed with check-in.

It seemed to my mother to take an extraordinarily long time, and the lady behind the counter was typing away like mad. My mother held her peace therefore and let her do her work, as she knew that they were too early anyhow. My father came back with his validated passport before the check-in had been completed, and after they proceeded to the café.

They arrived on time in Rome and took the cab to the Hotel Victoria, where they always stayed. The receptionist greeted them by name having worked there longer than my parents where regular guests. He handed my father the little questionnaire to fill in and started to type into his computer. He then brought my parents up to the usual room they always occupied during their stay.

After he left, the manager of the hotel knocked and came in to greet them. When he left, the chambermaid came in to take away the bedspreads and to put little chocolates on the pillows. After her followed the second chambermaid who took out the soap that that had been in the bathroom and replaced them with my mother’s favourite soap. After her came the waiter from the restaurant in the hotel with a bottle of Champagne and two glasses, and a card from the manager wishing my mother a happy birthday. After the waiter the chambermaid came again with a bouquet of flowers with a card attached from the owner of the hotel, wishing my mother a happy birthday.

When there was finally peace in the room, my mother started to think about it all. It all seemed so much hassle this year as opposed to last year. Maybe travelling was getting a bit much at 76. But she just went on to telephone her friends to tell them that they were safely arrived. When her friend said ‘oh, you are already here’ my mother started to realize that something was amiss. ‘Already?’ she asked, and was told that she had said to arrive the next day.

So my parents had gone off one day too early. I hadn’t checked if they had booked for the day mother told me. Neither had I checked the validity of their passports. My check list for my parents' travels became much longer after this adventure.

What really impressed me was that neither the airline nor the hotel even batted a lid at my parents arriving at their gates a day early. They just complied and delivered. Perfect service rendered, though it left my mother in a puzzle for some time to figure out why everything seemed so strange.

This last weekend, my son, my husband, and I went to Iowa, and, no, there was no corn to be seen. The initial reaction of everyone I encountered, and told I was going to Iowa was “why?” which, honestly, was my reaction as well. The answer is simply that we have family there, which seems to be the only reason why anyone goes there.

The last time I flew with my son he was 14 months old. Now he is 23 months old, and believe me, the nine months in between have made a huge difference in how we travel. The difference between a child who is contented to look at everything that is new, to one that insists on exploring everything that he can reach, which included under, between and sometimes over the seat.

On the almost four hour flight out to Iowa, my son slept until 20 minutes before we landed. During the flight back, he slept for about 35 minutes, then woke up ready to explore. Explore he did, and the floor was the place of choice. Nine months ago I wouldn't have dreamed of letting him get anywhere near the floor of an airplane, but, now that he is a toddler, anything that will keep him from kicking the seat in front of us is a very good idea.

So, the floor it was. He crept happily down into the Netherlands that is the under seat world of the airplane for just a little while, when I heard it, the deadly silence that inevitably accompanies something that he knows he shouldn't be doing, like climbing to the top of his changing table so he can dance a jig. I looked down just as two brown eyes furtively glanced up, “Burr,” he said, which is the closest approximation to bear that he can come up with at the moment.

I thought this was a little a strange because I had his “Burr” on my lap. As I lent down to see what he was referring to, which by the way, he thought was the funniest thing and sent him into gales of giggles, he showed me his new “Burr.” A small white teddy bear with a pink ribbon tied around its neck was clutched in his hand, apparently he had been foraging through the carry-on bag of the children behind us.

So began the game of, “Burr” and “put it back” that entertained him for the remainder of the three-hour journey. To say nothing of keeping me on my toes, because who knew what else might accompany the small white bear?

When the flight finally landed, and the white bear had been safely stowed where it had originally been pilfered from, we made our way off the airplane so he could see his Granddad. Granddad had figured heavily into conversations that went something like this, “Your Granddad will be waiting for you at the airport.” Look. “What are we going to tell him about how you behaved on the plane?” “Bad,” which was usually accompanied by the quick temporary displacement of all the reading material left for the passenger's enjoyment by the airline.

As we disembarked, the older couple who had been sitting in front of us, and had no doubt heard the “Burr” game, and the subsequent conversations about Granddad, told us what a good boy he had been throughout the flight, which made the whole experience that much better.

A word to the wise, the foolish, or whoever else may decide that they too want to travel with a toddler, it's not an easy undertaking, but, you might be rewarded with a small kiss from a little traveler sitting on the floor of an airplane. Not to mention the fact, that it may be the only time you are actually be complimented for your I-am-the-boss-of-me-and-I-will-do-everything-on-my-own toddler's behavior.