One piece of advice I can give about flying cross-country with infant twins: DO NOT. No matter how many passengers compliment your handling of the situation, multiple hours spent in an ass-cramping seat holding 18 squirmy and fussy pounds does not a fun day make. Add to that a shift of three time zones, and you’ve got a recipe for regret. And, rather than letting loose once you’ve finally arrived, for the duration of the vacation you are bedevilled by angst over the trip home.

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