On Sunday, we all got up early, loaded up the car and headed to Heathrow Airport. Some 18 hours later – and after two cars, two planes and several trains and trams – we arrived at Grandma and Grandpa’s — tired and jet lagged but happy. We had been a little worried ahead of time: Nyan has flown transatlantic several times, but he was not nearly so energetic and mobile as he is now. How would he do on an eight-hour flight to Chicago?
We needn’t have worried, as it turned out. The young man continues to impress and amaze us with his ability to handle pretty much any situation, and he was a joy the entire trip. Seriously.





