Sophia was around three years and something months old when I finally felt that she knew what her father does, why he's away most of the time and why a lot of men call him "sir".
It was December of 2009 when she first rode the plane and traveled with me and her nanny to the South to spend the holidays with her soldier dad. Unlike today when nails can already be a subject of a beautiful photograph, this momma-in-the-moment forgot to have a photo of her in front of or inside the plane for posterity. Oh well.
The journey with my then chubby 15-month-old baby girl was a breeze. She slept the whole time, giggled to everyone who said "hi", and when we arrived, her father lovingly held his unica hija. Was the feeling mutual? Did she reciprocate the affection given? She did nothing and said nothing (of course). Ha! Our tiny trooper just smiled showing her 8 (or was it 12?) milk teeth and remained her cute bubbly self the entire vacation. We did not complain. For us, it was more than enough.
Earlier was totally a different scenario, though.
