The Prince and I weren't seated next to each other on our flight home to Ontario, which sucked.
However, there was a silver- or should I say, white, freshly-permed, lining to this.
The Prince was seated about four rows behind me and to the right, so if I turned my head at the perfect angle from where I was sitting, I could see the top of his ginger head.
Every once in a while, I'd peek back at him. Not sure why, I guess I love him or something? No idea.
Anywho, during one of my look-backs, I noticed he wasn't in his seat. I figured he might be in the washroom.
15 minutes later when he still didn't appear to be in his seat, I decided that maybe he was slouching, and that I'd have to manoeuvre a better viewing angle.
After a bit of squirming and getting way too close to the man beside me, I could see The Prince again.
And he was sound asleep, snuggled up on the shoulder of the tiniest, cutest, white-haired old lady that was sitting next to him.
I can't be certain, but I think she may have been asleep also, all cuddled up with my little ginger boy.
When we got of the plane and met up with my parents, the first thing they asked was, of course:
"How was the flight?!"
Me: "It was awesome. The Prince took a nap on an unsuspecting little old lady."
My dad: "What a creeper."