Husker Power, 2'8"

 

That their hearts might be comforted,

being knit together in love. . . .

                                          — Colossians 2:2a

 

Once, we took a plane trip with our 1-year-old and three teenagers to Southern California to watch the Nebraska Cornhuskers in the Rose Bowl, do Disneyland, and visit NoNo and Monkey, also known as the grandparents.

 

It was a death march. Too late, we realized the Nebraska football team's secret weapon never made it onto the field. We should have suited up our toddler to play for the Big Red. She calls them the "go-go's." But she's a lot tougher and has more go-power. The go-go's could've used her that night.

 

She was only 2'8" and 25 pounds, but this mini-Husker wreaked havoc all over L.A. with a dominating style that made the Miami Hurricanes look like the Muppets.

 

Traveling with a toddler: it's a whole different ball game.

 

From the toddler travel playbook:

 

BLITZ. People are itchy enough about flying as it is. Now add a hysterical 21-month-old in close quarters at high altitudes for several hours. She kicked the seat in front with her new Go Big Red Ball Jets. She exposed her tonsils at high decibels. People glared at us. Nothing calmed her: not Binky, not Blanky, not books, not Tickle Me Elmo, not Cheerios, not a juice box, not a thtwawbewwy thucker, not Baby, not Pooh, not even her electronic toy we dubbed "Molly Migraine." There was no letting up by our red-faced, wild-haired bucking bronco: "NOOOOOOOOO!"

 

QUARTERBACK SNEAK. We turned to a trick play: The fabled Pink Kool-Aid. A teaspoon of Benadryl supposedly makes a small child drowsy. Sedation: a parenting tactic that works for us. We didn't want to do it in FRONT of everybody, though, because they'd be thinking Jim Jones and that Guyana thing. So, like that OTHER hero who thwarted airline terrorism, we said, "LET'S ROLL!" My husband faked a diaper change and hid The Pink Kool-Aid in his coat, I tackled Maddy and made the handoff, and we marched down the aisle to the john with our whirling dervish.

 

FOURTH AND 27. It didn't work. We turned to our other parenting tactic: feigning deafness. After four kids, we're really good at it.

 

DOUBLE REVERSE. A 1-year-old Velcros herself to your knees when you're trying to cook, and pounds her fists on the shower door because she can't stand to be separated from you by six inches. But the instant you set her down in a crowded L.A. airport to shift the strap of your 197-pound diaper bag, SHE'S GONE!!!!

 

EVADING TACKLES. A 1-year-old can arch her back in a complete circle so that the back of her head touches her heels. This is just a trick to get the stunned adult to let go. Toddlers also can suddenly stiffen and slide down, forcing you to release your grasp when you realize that she's naked from her underarms to her pencil-holder and concerned onlookers are calling the Kiddie Diddler Control Squad by cellular phone.

 

INTERCEPTIONS. Maddy is the Toddler League champion for snatching keys, dinner knives, fondue forks, cans of pop and other items she calls "DANE-jrous." She's especially good at snagging marker pens and pencils to redecorate walls, Jackson Pollock-style. She demonstrated these skills throughout the trip.

 

END AROUND. She could clear out an entire backfield when she's sporting a load. This, too, was demonstrated in the close quarters of the rental van on a regular basis, with pinpoint timing 40 miles from a rest stop.

 

TALKIN' SMACK. Somewhere between the teacups and Mr. Toad's Wild Ride at Disneyland, Maddy lost her pacifier. Hours later, she started demanding, "Binky go?" over and over, with increasing intensity. At bedtime, she released an intimidating torrent of baby epithets that would have reduced the Miami defensive line to a whimpering, thumb-sucking glob of goo.

 

POST-GAME INTERVIEWS. After the Rose Bowl, which Nebraska lost in humiliating fashion, we were tired, cold and ready to go home. We were sick of the traffic, crowds, prices, noise and smog. We'd had enough of "Fornya" and were homesick for "Baska." Late that night, we stopped in at an Arby's in L.A. The clerk commented on the baby's cuteness and then said, "You're not from around here, are you?" We replied, "No. How did you know?" She said, "Because you're smiling and happy. People from L.A. never are."

 

Game ball, Baby. It put the whole ordeal . . . I mean, trip . . . into perspective.

 

We may have been soundly defeated by a 2'8", 25-pounder, and our team might have gotten a whuppin'. But at least we were going down together . . . and still smiling. †