I do not conquer jet lag very well. We returned to Israel on Thursday afternoon (noting from the airplane while in Israeli airspace that nearly every green patch within view was filled with parked cars and Israelis barbecuing and celebrating Israel’s Independence Day), and while I dropped from exhaustion shortly before 12:30am and woke up at 10am when the telephone rang, Friday night was a challenge, and last night was a disaster, as I fell asleep only once daylight set in and the birds began to chirp (starting at around 5 am or so, for those of you not in the know). Who knew that birds could be so damned annoying…

I swear to you that I started to write at least half-a-dozen posts (or at least half of a half-dozen) while in the US, but needless to say, I was easily distracted and didn’t get around to finishing any of them. It never ceases to amaze me that vacation time can pass so quickly, while at the same time, events from just a few weeks earlier can seem like a lifetime ago. The day we arrived feels like a distant memory on the one hand, yet it still somehow seems like yesterday that we landed at Newark Airport without our luggage. By the way, we did receive the luggage the day after we arrived in Sarasota, after being told rather conspiratorially by one baggage service agent that another agent (who’d been rather rude to us one day earlier) was a “bitter, bitter man who hated his job and hated luggage”…

We were gone for a month, and while it sounds like a long time, no matter how long I’m there, it’s just never long enough. This was especially true for this visit, made more hectic by the fact that we were in both Florida and New York, and a veritable plethora of spots in between. I loved St. Augustine, Florida, where we took a trolley ride around the city and I drank from the Fountain of Youth (which may or may not explain why everyone tells me I look rested – maybe I just look younger). The Luray Caverns left me speechless, and many pictures were taken by all, including the Little One, who would preface every request to hand over the camera with, “ooooh! Wow! Mommy, look at that one!” The Great Smoky Mountains (where a young Israeli traveling with his parents offered in Hebrew to take a picture of our family at Clingmans Dome) and the Blue Ridge Parkway were stunning, and Lancaster, Pennsylvania was great fun, though probably more on account of the fact that we were with close friends than because of the area itself, given that we were there in the off-season.

We traveled, visited with friends and family, shopped (not nearly enough), and ate (far too much). Most of all, we took great pleasure in watching the Little One acclimate to and enjoy his surroundings, playing with family and friends and feeling more and more at ease in the English language with each passing day. I know that he understands everything, but with each trip, I hold my breath, waiting to see how he handles the switch, waiting to see how long it takes him to speak more English than Hebrew. Initially shy and hesitant, we knew that we’d turned a corner when he responded to Bob the Builder’s usual query of “can we fix it?” with “absolutely!” And, while I’m rather pleased that he’s calling me “Mommy” these days, I can’t say the same is true of my husband, who greatly prefers “Aba” to “Dad” or “Daddy”, said with an American accent that neither I nor my parents have.

If I were to make an educated guess as to what the highlight of our visit was for the Little One, I’d say our trip to Disney World, where we spent a few precious moments with the current objects of my son’s affection – Buzz, Woody and Jessie, looking on with wide-eyed admiration, exchanging hugs and posing for pictures. And that was just me… Not that the kid is obsessed or anything, but when we returned from the US, among our vast number of purchases, one could find two Buzz Lightyear action figures (one big, one small), one Woody (small), Buzz Lightyear/Toy Story sneakers, pajamas, short-sleeved shirts, long-sleeved shirts, one baseball cap, one video game, and the DVD of Toy Story 2. Rather scary, no? It’s so easy to succumb to the temptation, though, especially when it comes to all things Disney, where the attention to detail and customer service is nothing short of spectacular, so much so that you almost don’t mind notice the fact that you’ve given them the better part of your bank account just by crossing over the threshold into their wonderful world of Disney.

A certain little boy meets the object of his affections.

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