We were supposed to be on a plane now.
Long story short, Sroch's renewed Israeli passport did not arrive in time. We went to the airport, on time, relying on what others have told us that it would be okay, they would see in the computer that it was being processed, we could use the American ones, etc. etc. etc. In the end, it was a simple matter to get the form that would let us go, except waiting in line to get that form took enough time that the flight closed before we could get on it.
After many machinations and substantial ticket change fees, we're now scheduled on a flight to New York via Paris tomorrow, getting us in a mere 12 hours after our original scheduled arrival time. Oh, and we'll have no food on the plane.
There was no point in going home, so we have stayed in the airport to kill four hours waiting for 5 AM when we can check in.
It's 1:22 AM. Yoav and Llama are on a bench attempting to rest, Sroch is reading, and here I am . It's my shift to be awake and watch the bags.
In general when we travel, I get a little anxious about making the flight, and I don't calm down until we're by the gate.
This was an masterclass in not freaking out.
But it was so clear that God did not want us to be on our scheduled flight. And my children, bless their hearts, mostly took this with perfect equanimity.
And we have so much to be grateful for. We are going after all. No one is in diapers. No one will have a tantrum because they're tired, except possibly me. Somewhere in this airport we will find kosher food to take with us and sustain us for the next 24 hours and 48 minutes until we arrive.
And with luck, the girls will actually sleep REALLY well on the plane for the first time in their lives.
Update, no one is sleeping. So Abba is doing some of our scheduled summer learning with them.