Counting minutes to see maa

Ahan slept through most of the flight. The only times he woke up was when I had to use the loo and of course had to carry him in with me. There were tired protests, and it broke my heart. He was exhausted, and wanted to sleep. I wasn't doing good either without food, free arms and sleep. About two hours before touchdown at Delhi, they began serving breakfast. Ahan decided that's best time for a trip to the bathroom. His constipation gave way and we had a pretty interesting time in the crammed loo, trying to maneuver a diaper worth three-days poop, an excited Ahan and his precious clothes. I missed breakfast. They don't believe in leaving food at your seat if you are not there. The aunty came to my rescue and bugged the hell out of the attendants to get me food. As a trade off, I listened to her complain about her "loose" American daughter, who despite having a lavish Indian arranged marriage with a good Indian doctor, slept around and hooked up with a white man. It helped me not miss the Bollywood movie I could have watched had Ahan not been on the flight with me.