BB, Before Bryce, we would have gone out the night before, rolled out of bed 10 minutes before the shuttle picked us up to drop us off at the airport and ate Cinnabons while we waited for our flight to depart.
PB, Post-Bryce, we were the ones waking up the roosters before the sun came up. Dad was at the house by 8:30 a.m. to take us to the airport. We had 10 minutes of bags, strollers, play yards, and car seat to put in the car which means we had 10 minutes, plus baby, of bags, strollers, play yards, and car seat to unload and check in (we didn't check Bryce in, we decided to roll the dice and let him ride up above with us.)
We checked in and dropped off 5 of the 25 things (crap) we had lugged with us and headed to the gate. Bryce was not enjoying his stroll through the airport.
Bryce fussy level = elevated, but ignorable.
Once Bryce and his crew got through security, we bought some breakfast...minus the Cinnabon. Melissa warned me that they had left Tampa International but I wouldn't believe it. I couldn't. That's one of the reasons I travel. The aroma of cinnamon rolls that smacks you in the face when you walk in. No more. (Insert rant from A Christmas Story when the Bumpus hounds mauled the turkey dinner but substitute "Cinnabon" for turkey..."No more cinnamon stuck in the corner of my lips, no more gallons of Cinnabon soup, Cinnabon sandwhiches...."). Okay focus....We wanted to tire Bryce out (before he tired us out) so we "released him" and off he went (with one of his trained monkeys. The man one.)
We took shifts corralling Bryce around the Southwest gates until they announced it was time to line up to board. He made friends with a 3 year old little girl whose Dad recommended (strongly) that we should have brought the car seat for Bryce to sit in. I think I actually saw a tear in his eye when we mentioned that we had already checked it in and that there was no turning back now. Oops.
Bryce ran around and pointed at everyone and looked outside at the planes and the people loading/unloading the planes.
(looks like he'll fit in the overhead....hmmm...)
Bryce fussy level = low, fun to watch his reactions to all the new sights.
We had printed our boarding passes exactly 24 hours prior to our flight and not a minute later! 
We wanted to make sure we were able to board as early as possible so we could claim the entire back section of the plane. We had it all planned out- we would each claim a row at the back and spread our stuff around on each seat. Then Mike, being the tallest, would hold Bryce up in the air and wave him around so everyone boarding could clearly see that there was a toddler on board and to stay to the front of the plane. We were going to wrap Brye in mulit-colored Christmas lights, blare recordings of crying babies, and insert poopie, diaper stink bombs in the air vents, but we couldn't get all of it passed security. Bummer.
We wanted to make sure we were able to board as early as possible so we could claim the entire back section of the plane. We had it all planned out- we would each claim a row at the back and spread our stuff around on each seat. Then Mike, being the tallest, would hold Bryce up in the air and wave him around so everyone boarding could clearly see that there was a toddler on board and to stay to the front of the plane. We were going to wrap Brye in mulit-colored Christmas lights, blare recordings of crying babies, and insert poopie, diaper stink bombs in the air vents, but we couldn't get all of it passed security. Bummer.Much to our delight (relief), and much to everyone else's (without them even knowing), our plan was a success, we broke the ground on "Bryceland" and everyone stayed far, far away.
Fasten your seatbelts folks. It's gonna be a bumpy ride!!
"Where are my peanuts? Don't we get peanuts?"
Bryce, being the helpful little boy that he is, thought it would be a good idea to help us pack. Mike really appreciated it. 
Bryce has a real knack for making everything fit. He uses the "jump, knee, repeat" technique. 
He then incorporated the Tuscany-grape stomping method. 
A little more effective I guess. (No Dad, this does not mean Bryce is allowed to drink wine at Thanksgiving dinner).
"Yeah, it's good"
Bryce wanted to make sure we brought the essentials which include:
"here, you will see a photograph of the rare, Baby Byrd and its newly, laid eggs.
We danced when Adam and Kris sang, packed, Bryce would unpack, I would re-pack, more un-packing. I never thought packing could be so much fun (take so long). 
I managed to lug it all to the beach in one trip (managed to only sprain one of my wrists) and we claimed our spot near an old pier. 
Played with a bottle of water (no Dad, we didn't bring beer...they were out of BudLight and Bryce doesn't care for Budweiser). 
I know Dad, should have bought the Budweiser.
Having more than 12" of counter space (old house) makes baking or doing any kind of project in the kitchen so much easier. Bryce pulled up a chair, I put a towel down (lesson learned from making the Mother's Day cake) and we were crackin' eggs!
(in your best vampire voice): "I vant to lick your spoon"
He had to sneak in a lick or three, but so did I. 
Brownie and cake mix is almost better than the final product! So we stirred, licked, and greased the pan and then poured the batter into the pan (which was the wrong size but I thought I would take a chance and use what we had.) Worked out just fine.
Mike put the pan in the oven letting Bryce know that it was hot and that they had to be careful.)
