Wish me luck! We're going to Blighty

My wonderful son has many fine qualities but patience is not, as yet, one of them. This morning in bed I sent up a silent prayer that today he might suddenly develop a little - we'll be in need of it at the airport. This isn't the first time he's flown. Oh no, he's a seasoned flier, my little boy. I think this is his sixth flight. The first three were bearable because although he cried he was still immobile and therefore manageable. The last few, though, have been difficult and today's will be too, no doubt. Sitting still is an impossibility and staying in his pram when we're queueing is torture. I've packed up all the usual suspects - The very hungry caterpillar, his favourite car, his cuddly kiwi (the animal, not the fruit) - in the hope that they'll keep him entertained and, failing this, I've also packed chocolate. I admit it's not the best to be bribing your son into submission with sugary products (and they'll only make him more hyper afterwards anyway) but it's my contingency plan and I'm sticking to it.