See Sam Fly
Sam hopped on a plane and flew to Salt Lake City to stay with my sister and her family.
Within minutes after his arrival, he sent me a text about how beautiful the weather was.
(Yeah, just rub that one in there, buddy.)
This is Sam’s second trip to Utah and about his sixth or seventh time to fly on his own. I don’t need to accompany him to the gate anymore, nor does anyone need to meet him there like we did when he first flew on his own.
I did not do a single thing to help him pack, not a prompt about the web check-in or anything. When we got to the airport, I asked him, “do you want to hop out at the curb or do you need me to come in?”
He asked me to come in and stay until he was got in the security line.
But he thought about it for a minute. He really did.
Wow! This gives me hope.
The key is two things: talking through the steps. And repetition. Lots of repetition.
You know what is hysterical. Chef has the hardest time flying. It stresses him out more than anything else I can think of.
Me, too. I like to think I hide it really well.