From Terror to Triumph

Flying with my son started as a challenge, but special experiences ensued.

- PIA BERGQVIST

I have loved airplanes since I was a little girl. So when my son arrived, I was excited to share my passion with him. The early days seemed to indicate that he shared my fascination with flight. One of the very first sounds Benjamin uttered as a baby was a crowlike “cra-cra,” which he excitedly made, while pointing to the sky, any time he saw an airplane. As he grew older, Benjamin made funny noises as he swooped toy airplanes around in aerobatic flight patterns.

As a toddler, Benjamin was not one to throw a fit. He would never scream and roll on the floor at Target because I wouldn’t buy the toy he desired, as some kids do. He wouldn’t cry if I refused to buy the tub of ice cream he wanted at the grocery store. However, if I said we were going flying, all hell broke loose. “I hate flying! I don’t want to go flying!” he would scream as soon as I told him we were heading to the airport.

Because I wasn’t prepared to give up on my own dreams, I bribed him with extra iPad time and promises that we would fly to cool places. He liked flying to Catalina Island off California, so occasionally he started asking: “Can we fly to the island?” My heart was filled every time I heard those words.