Australia: Day 1

It turns out you can fly for 20 hours with a broken in-flight entertainment system and two small children and still step off the plane with your sanity intact. Z was a champ, sleeping a fair amount on the San Francisco to Sydney leg. A was not an ideal traveling companion, but since I'd pretty much resigned myself to being her entertainer/waitress/disciplinarian, I was neither surprised not particularly disappointed that I only read about 25 pages of my book.

What I was not entirely prepared for was the double-meltdown of extraordinary proportions that had me barely saving bystanders from A's kicking feet in the passport control line. A German couple in front of me looked at me with pity and kindness and urged me to jump to the front of the line. I thanked her and said that if the people in front of me offered, we'd do it. The guy in front of me didn't even turn around. Apparently getting to his luggage 3 minutes ahead of me was worth the hearing loss. 

By the time we'd claimed our luggage and stepped into the customs line, A was calm. Z's bowels, not so much. The customs director took pity on us after I declared our "Cheerios, granola bars, a brownie and a kid who needs a toilet now" and waved us through without an inspection.

Miracle of miracles our jet-lag hasn't been too bad yet. We arrived around 8:30am and A took her regular nap from 1 to 3 (after a trip to the beach and an overpriced fish and chips). If we can make it to 8pm, we'll all turn in together in Eleanor and Simon's spare room.