It was late in the afternoon when Kawaii finally lost it. She was sobbing inconsolably, struggling to take in the requisite breaths in order to continue her cycle of woe-is-me cries. Neither the offering of a teddy bear nor the whispered singing of AFL club songs was able to stem the tide of tears.
Who could blame her? Here we were, in a van heading from Haneda, the more central of Tokyo’s two airports, to the digs that will be our new home for the next few years. Our day had started 18 hours earlier several seas away, and Kawaii was simply vocalising what The Diplomat and I were feeling.
We were lucky that it was in that small van that fatigue finally got the better of her. After all, our only company in that space was our world-weary driver and a colleague of The Diplomat who had greeted us at the airport. Had she have lost her composure an hour earlier, our company would have been a planeful of well-heeled commuters towards the pointy end of an A350.
As it happens, our flights were about as good as we possibly could have hoped for with an 18-month-old. She was in a good mood, slept a few hours, paged through some books and ate enough to develop a healthy distrust of airline food. By the end she was even asked for selfies by hosties enamoured with her curly locks and cheeky smile.
Before the flight I had asked a few people for advice on long-haul travel with a toddler. Two themes came up repeatedly: make generous use of Phenergan, and queue up plenty of videos.
For some parents those two had clearly worked well, but I wasn’t sure it was right for us. After all, using a sedative for the first time could be a risky move and does seem a little like using a performance-enhancing drug in the Parenting Olympics. And encouraging Kawaii to zone out in front of a screen would take her a step closer to being the screen zombie I fear.
Flying long-haul with a toddler is a test of character: how far are you willing to compromise your parenting principles for the sake of peace and quiet? It is easy to have all sorts of family rules when you’re in the comfort of your own living room and the only people who need to hear the wails of dissent are you. But when you’re fraying with tiredness, stressed by logistical complications and trying to stay nice with a bunch of strangers, it’s tempting to bend the rules.
In the end we held firm against using a sedative, or even making liberal use of the free-flow chardy on board (for any of us). But we did yield a little on screen time.
Desperate for some quiet and sick of looking for that fucking green sheep, I sat Kawaii in my lap and turned on the screen in front of us. I sifted through countless menus until I finally got to the kids section and scrolled through. The options were high-energy cartoons, epilepsy-inducing action and happy-clappy song-and-dance numbers.
But among them were a couple of gems: Wallace & Grommit in The Wrong Trousers and a Bugs Bunny special featuring the usual suspects in all their politically incorrect glory. Gold. If I was going to let my daughter gawk at a screen for an hour, I was going to expose her to the best bits of television of my own childhood.
Being mid-flight adds an extra degree of difficulty to feeding a toddler. Normally we’re pretty adventurous in what we feed Kawaii, knowing that if she doesn’t like what we offer her that she’s got a pretty effective way of letting us know. Then we sponge it out of our hair and move on.
But try that same strategy in the air, and we could find ourselves wearing some unloved morsels for the rest of the journey, or worse still trying to identify a mysterious squelch each time we adjusted our seat. A safety-first (and dignity-first) strategy demanded that we only offered things we knew she’d like. That left us poking and prodding at our tray, debating the merits of each forkful before we offered it up, like heathens offering sacrifices to appease a vengeful god. Dangerous business, that.
Apart from a few tense moments, Kawaii remained the good kid she always is. We made it through the flights intact, then passed through border control and jumped in the van that would take us to our new home. Then she cracked.