Bottleneck 

So it’s really no wonder that the first thing I noticed as we walked up to the gate late that Friday morning was a very unhappy newborn.

We were traveling home from out of town with several children in tow; the plan was to arrive with enough time before Shabbos to bathe and shower and throw some food in the oven. For the first time ever in the history of our family’s travels, we arrived at the airport with ample time until our flight, made it through security with ease, received our stroller and car seat tags, and were seated at our gate right away.

I wanted to breathe a sigh of relief and relax until boarding time. But there was the baby, crying hard, and his mother trying desperately to calm him.

“He’s hungry,” I said to my husband. “I hope she’s going to feed him!” But the baby continued to cry, and the mother continued to shush, patting and bouncing and rocking to no avail. The tension was rising, and my heartbeat with it, when I looked over once more and saw the baby’s mother filling a plastic water bottle with formula, then attempting to feed her son from its spout.