You know how every once in a while you get on a plane and some woman is already buckled in with a screaming red kid on her lap? Monday night, I was that woman. The plane had been delayed and Baby was in NO mood for anything besides screaming… I offered him food, I sang to him, I changed his diaper while he stood on my lap; nothing worked. Except for the Motrin, which took effect 15 minutes after I'd dosed him and for the rest of the flight he was all conked out (praise Jesus).
I told the flight attendant I wanted to buy drinks for the two people in front of us but she told me to keep my money in my pocket, that she'd take care of it. The man in the seat directly ahead of us ordered scotch; I guess the woman next to him wasn't a drinker.

Baby remained asleep as the plane landed so I waited for everyone else to debark before waking him up. The woman sitting behind me stood and pressed a five-dollar bill in my hand.

“Listen, you didn't have to pay for my drink,” she said.

“I didn't!” I replied. “The flight attendant did. Please, keep your money.”

“No, you keep it,” she said. “Because the only thing that made it OK was your singing. That was awesome.”

So now I'm either a professional singer or a professional mom. I was going to frame the five bucks but instead I swapped it for laundry quarters. Guess that means I'm a professional mom.