Geraldine Cobbertodes

You’re standing at the airport gate. Your kid is crying. You forgot the snacks. And you’re already wondering why you thought this was a good idea.

You know that feeling. The second you say “let’s go on a family trip” and everyone lights up (except) you.

You’ve got fifteen browser tabs open. One for flights. One for hotels. One for “best strollers for Disney.

I’ve watched my kid scream in airport security while I fumbled with three separate bags and a stroller that folded like origami gone wrong.

You know that moment when everyone’s supposed to be having fun (but) instead you’re Googling “how to stop a toddler meltdown on a plane” at 3 a.m.? Yeah.

My kid once screamed for 27 minutes straight on a red-eye to Lisbon. Not because he was sick. Not because he was tired.

You’ve already booked the flight. You’ve packed the bags. But your dog is staring at you like you’re about to vanish forever. I get it.

I remember the exact moment my kid dropped her ice cream on a cobblestone street in Prague. She didn’t cry.