I handed my daughter a pad and watched her rush to the airplane bathroom, trying hard not to cry.Five minutes later, a flight attendant said she was asking for me. I found her inside, shaken. “It leaked,” she whispered. I grabbed her sweater so she could tie it around her waist and quietly helped her out. She’s only eleven, but she handled it with grace. A woman across the aisle mouthed, “Good job, Dad.” I smiled, but it wasn’t over yet.
At the hotel, we realized I had forgotten to pack her junior bridesmaid dress. She tried to act like it was okay, but I knew it wasn’t.
