Dear Parents of the Tiny WWE Champion in 11A

Dear Parents of the Tiny WWE Champion in 11A,

Hello from 12A — or as I now call it, the front row seat to your baby’s one-person wrestling show. While I fully support early childhood development, I wasn’t prepared for your little bundle of joy to crawl over the seatback like a caffeinated Cirque du Soleil performer, screaming directly into my skull while enthusiastically slapping my head like a bongo drum.

At one point, I wasn’t sure if we were still flying Southwest or had been rerouted to Baby Fight Club: Mile High Edition. I tried to stay calm — I really did — but it’s hard to meditate through turbulence when a drooling infant is reenacting a scene from The Exorcist six inches from your face.

To be clear, I don’t blame the baby. The baby’s thriving. It’s giving main character energy. I just didn’t realize “emotional support concussion” was included in the ticket price.

Sincerely,

Seatbelted and Spiritually Defeated in 12A (currently applying hand sanitizer to my scalp and rethinking all my life choices)