Well, not too bad actually.
We got to Bergamo airport and it was absolutely heaving so I decided on Tom's behalf that we'd leave the shopping area and go straight through to the departure lounge...two and a half hours early. (I should explain - it had been snowing heavily, I'd been worried about traffic, I had to leave my car in an off-site car park...hence the ridiculously early arrival). It was perfect. The lounge for flights to Liverpool is a sort of add-on to the main airport (a posh shed, really) and when we arrived it was empty. I released him from his shackles (let him out of his pram) and watched as he climbed over seats, crawled under tables and toddled from one end to the other, all with a delight worth the muck and grime he was getting all over himself. The problems started when the other passengers started to wander in. I had sympathetic looks and smiles from some mums but an awful lot of why-can't-you-control-your-son looks as well. I wanted to point out that they'd get a lot more annoyed with Tom if he were in his pram as he'd scream non-stop for the remaining two hours. And so I let him run amok, occasionally wandering into someone's leg or picking up someone's water bottle but on the whole being very well-behaved.
Once on the flight, Tom wriggled and whinged for ten minutes before I clamped him to my chest, stuck my cardigan over his head and he fell asleep. There was a collective sigh of relief as I lay him across two seats (people had wisely avoided the seat next to us) and he settled in for the next seventy minutes. When he eventually woke up, he was so groggy he just sat still on my lap for the remainder of the flight. All in all, apart from the odd look from judgemental folk, it all went pretty well. I'm not sure I'd do it again in a hurry, or at least until he can sit still with a book that is, but yes, not bad.
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