Apu was walking with Pompom up and down the isle, when the flight attendant needed to pass. In a moment of panic, Apu lifted Pompom up on the seat by her weak little one year old arms. Welp, the whaling began, and Pompom couldn't move her shoulder for a few LONG hours without screaming bloody murder. Apu felt SO bad that he actually started to cry momentarily (mom unfortunately didn't snap a picture), and said he was never getting within 20 feet of another baby as long as he's alive. Poor, Apu.
After a horrible pep talk from mom (that we should be grateful that it's not cancer), dad came up with a great idea. The flight attendant made an announcement, outing the 'rents as the worst parents on the aircraft, and asked if there were any doctors onboard.
It turns out doctors also like Cyprus, because about three people jumped to the rescue...and one was a nice pediatrician. She also happened to have oral pain medication on hand, so the decision was made to drug Palms into oblivion and hope for the best.
We stopped briefly at the emergency korhaz on the way home from the airport (read: which would have ended up resulting in more injury/sickness), but decided to let her sleep it off at home. Mom avoided her second brush with Hungarian emergency medicine! Darn!!
But good news!!! Pompom woke up 100% functional, minus the pinkeye spred by yours truly!
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