'Is that really Concorde? Are we going on it NOW?'

Five-year-old Leo gets a taste for the high life when dad Neil Koenig takes him to New York on the supersonic jet

It was my wife's idea – "you and Leo go". She didn't want to take our two-year-old daughter anywhere near a plane for at least another couple of years. But Leo, who's five, loves anything which has an engine – ships, cars, trains, planes – and Concorde most of all.

In early March, we were debating what to do with the BA Miles we'd been saving. British Airways had just announced changes (which take effect this summer) to the way it rewards its frequent flyers. Some trips will become more "expensive" in mileage terms. There were also rumours in the press that Concorde was about to be axed. So we decided to take the plunge. When I asked Leo if he'd like to go with Daddy on a supersonic trip to America he was highly enthusiastic – although I don't think he really believed it was going to happen until we arrived at Heathrow airport.

Travelling with a young child is fascinating because it forces you to re-evaluate the entire experience. Was Leo impressed by the separate check-in area for Concorde passengers, or the fast-track lane through security? No, but he did want to know why the nice man had taken our bags – "is that to pay for the tickets?".

In the Sir Terence Conran-designed Concorde room we did not have to resort to rounding up fellow passengers for a game of cops and robbers. Instead, while I was still struggling to hand over our boarding passes, Leo marched straight over to the huge window and just stared and stared. "Is that really Concorde? Are we going on it NOW?". The place was packed, but Leo was the only child. The staff were delightful, and made a big fuss of him, plying him with toys, and a plate of egg sandwiches that he wolfed down. In between mouthfuls he'd wander back to the window for another glimpse of the plane.

He was thrilled by the take-off – "this is like a rocket!". But as we got higher he grew anxious – "I don't like being above the clouds". Fortunately distraction arrived in the form of food and drink. He had Coke while I drank champagne. After I had a refill, Leo said, "Daddy, you're going to be a drunken sailor!"

Thanks to the egg sandwiches, Leo barely touched his special child meal, but showed great interest in the chocolates, which included "salted caramel" and "lavender". I found them delicious; Leo spat them out. Then it was playtime. The "ink-blue Connolly leather and fabric" seats made an ideal table for Leo's games. We discovered that the "cradle mechanism" is particularly useful for trapping Chinese Checkers pieces.

A fact of life of travelling with children is that "accidents" occur frequently. So we were forced to become adept at squeezing into the tiny washroom. This involved Leo standing on the loo while I leant forward, so that he could reach over my shoulder and push the door shut behind me. Changing all Leo's clothes required further contortions from which my back is only just recovering.

Leo enjoyed the landing – "BUMP!" – almost as much as the take-off, and was delighted to see his bag waiting for him on the baggage carousel. It was now that the time-saving benefits of Concorde really began to pay off. Instead of being exhausted, Leo was full of beans and ready to go. When we got to the midtown apartment building where we were staying, we went straight up to the roof-garden to look at the view. This did not hold Leo's attention; instead he wanted to run races with his little friend Arthur. They zoomed round and round, and Arthur's father and I discovered that the perimeter of a skyscraper is a surprisingly long way.

Leo had a wonderful time visiting New York, greatly helped by the lack of jet-lag. He learnt how to give "five" to the apartment building doorman, and tested the Central Park playgrounds to destruction. He wanted to go to a toy shop, so I pointed across the road at FAO Schwartz. He looked, and then looked up: "Wow". I had difficulty making him understand that it didn't occupy the whole skyscraper.

He also had fun staying with his cousins in New Jersey. During the entire trip he only asked for his mummy once, after he fell over during a very exciting but exhausting game of baseball. On the last day he said, "I know we have to go home but can we stay just one more night?"

On the return journey it was clear Leo was learning the ropes – "can we go and have something to eat in the lounge?". Back on the plane he astounded me by pointing to my caviar: "What's that? Can I try it? Yum. Can I have some more?" Ten minutes later: "What's that?" "Er... foie gras, you won't like it." Unfortunately for me he did like it – and also the black truffle that came with the chicken.

It will take time to discover what Leo really made of the trip. He loved the shape of Concorde, the take-off and landing, and that it was "really, really, really fast!". He even seemed to have grasped the fact that "it can fly faster than you can say 'supersonic'!" I don't think he really understands that soon Concorde won't be flying any more; but as we began the long walk to the arrivals hall he spotted it again through the glass: "look daddy!".

I took another picture, as Leo stood staring at the plane for a long, long time.