What good is living in Orlando if you can’t kick back and enjoy it?
With a free weekend in front of us, we planned a mini family vacation right here in town (which Beki informed me is properly called a “staycation”).

Vacation, staycation, potato, potahto — I call it sheer happiness.

Especially when visiting the happiest place on earth (DISNEY WORLD!).

With the happiest baby on earth (Jude).

And his adorable big brother, who just about went into orbit
when he got to ride “Star Tours” with his daddy. Apparently he was too busy saving the galaxy to pose for pictures.

Jude was just wondering where the napping rides were. Couldn’t Disney install some Mary Poppins rock-a-bye baby cribs for all those sleepy tots?

And their parents? I think I saw as many parents melting down as their children right around 3:00 p.m.

I guess everyone gets to act like a kid at Disney.

STAYCATION, we love you! You just might become an annual tradition.

Yesterday Noah’s preschool class learned about travel, and the kids were asked to dress as “tacky tourists.”

Noah could not understand why a tourist would not choose to wear a Spider-man costume.

So he sulked a little bit.

Meanwhile, I rummaged through our closet to find some appropriate tourist-wear.

This is exactly how Pete and I dress when we travel:

Eventually I coaxed a smile out of my little boy. But one minute in a beret was enough for him.

I am fully prepared for him to backpack across Europe when he’s 18, dressed as a superhero.

Since it appears this Spider-man phase is NEVER going to end.

While I don’t like to name drop (cough, cough), it just so happens that our little family had a major brush with fame last week.

Major.

Brush.

With fame.

I know what you’re thinking. Obama? Tyra? Jared the Subway Sandwich Guy?

Better.

Pete, Noah, and I met the — THE, mind you…

BUZZ LIGHTYEAR. And Woody. Although Woody wasn’t quite as impressive in person. Maybe his pullstring is wound a little too tight.

Are you sufficiently impressed?

If not, you need to up your Toy Story intake. Does the body good.

“Ages three and up! It’s on my box! Ages three and up! I’m not supposed to be babysitting Princess Drool!” If you can name that character, you pass with flying colors.

And while we were waiting in line to shake hands with these dignitaries, we just happened to snap a few more photos at Toy Story Mania:

“The claw! The claw is our master!
The claw decides who will go and who will stay!”

“You have been chosen!”

“Wait a minute, I just lit a rocket…
Rockets EXPLODE!”

And my personal favorite…

“You really are Stinky Pete, aren’t you?”

Classic.

We made it! Finally rolled in just before midnight. Will spend today “digging out!”

Be it ever so humble, there’s no place like home…

Dear Everybuddy,

Mama says we can’t stay here FOREVER because Leo would miss the way I chase him and hug his neck until he goes ROWR. And she says it would not be nice to ask Aunt Beki to scoop his DOO-DOO DUNE for all of his NINE LIVES.

So I am taking LOTS of pictures.

Love, Noah

Auntie Kim

Halle, Lydia, and Riley

Riley and Tate

Lydia

Tate’s kite

Nana and Pop-Pop

Mama

Me and Mama (on the Ocracoke Ferry)

Dear Everybuddy,

Here is how I am spending my vacation. I have decided to live here FOREVER with my cousins. I will miss you.

Love, Noah

P.S. Iain, you should come too. And bring your cape.

Dear Everybuddy,

It’s me Noah again. I am writing to tell you about the GIANT SANDBOX we visited yesterday. Daddy says it is called a DUNE.

I was so happy to get out of the car that I just ran and ran and ran and RAN. Mama said it was time to get my wiggles out.

The sand felt squishy under my toes, just the way I like it.

I am glad I had Daddy there to help me climb the BIG DUNE. It is hard to climb a mountain without your Dada.

And Mama always has a juice box waiting for me. That is very important to a mountain-dune climber who is also a SUPERHERO.

So if you ever meet a superhero, remember that he is probably THIRSTY.

I could see the whole world up there. The world is very, VERY big.

If Mama made Leo’s litter box this big, he would never go #2 on her bedspread. I think he needs a Doo-Doo Dune.

And that’s all I have to say about that. Bye-bye Everybuddy.

Love,

Noah

Hi, Everybuddy!

Its Noah here. Mama says I am the speshul corespondent for owr beech trip. I’m not shure what that meens, but I think I get extra Goldfish crakers and am allowwed to use the kamera.

Oh, hang on — Mama is turning on the spell chekur. Much better.

Today I will tell you about our road trip. Mama and Dada always talk about how they want me to sleep in the car. I try not to take it personally. Sometimes I will be nice and give a big yawn and rub my eyes to make them think it’s working.

And sometimes, I am such a good actor it actually works for real.

I have other tricks too. Like when Mama gives Dada a hard time for his driving, and I put on my invisibility cloak.

I keep it on until the coast is clear. Or we pass a McDonalds. Then I SCREAM FOR ICE CREAM (AND nuggets AND fries AND chocolate milk).

Oh yeah, AND the Playland, even though Mama says it is a Germfest. She loves it when I find a random fry somewhere near the slide and eat it.

(I think she would rather I use ketchup.)


Then she panics and washes my hands with antibacterial soap.

Baby Penguin says the dryer tickles his fur.

And that’s all I have to say about that.

Love,

Noah

Thomas the Tank Engine book, check.

Stuffed penguins, check.

Buzz Lightyear, check.

Superhero cape, check.

(Funny how clothes and diapers become an afterthought.)

North Carolina, here we come! Fourteen hours of driving over two days to the Outer Banks, where we will enjoy seven blissful days with Pete’s entire clan.

And the house even has high-speed internet! Woo-hoo!!

See you there…

If the family were a fruit, it would be an orange, a circle of sections, held together but separable – each segment distinct. -Letty Cottin Pogrebin

Don’t expect a Floridian to pass up a quote that incorporates both family and citrus fruit. I cannot resist the poetic resonance. And, to be truthful, we are a rather fruity bunch (in the best sense of the word).

Meet our tribe – Pete’s side, that is: two parents, three brothers, three sisters-in-law, and five cousins for Noah, ages four and under, which makes for some wild and crazy family time.

May I present the photographic evidence below (and before you think I broke a seriously nice camera, might I note that Troy, my brother-in-law and part-time photographer extraordinaire, is responsible for most of these amazing pictures):

First up, Lydia. My niece is especially close to my heart because we share a birthday (separated by a couple of decades or so. Emphasis on or so). Here she is manning the sprinkler:

And looking very cute.

Here’s the equally adorable Riley and Noah — is this not a classic summertime kid photo? I feel like I’ve stepped into an episode of the Little Rascals…

Riley looking very sweet, and not like a rascal at all…

My hubby. Yowsa. Definitely a rascal.

And I like it.

A lot.

One more gratuitous self-portrait. Hey, I’ve got to get some mileage out of this weight loss.

“Mama, enough already!”

Oops. Sorry. Back to the kiddos.

Noah and Tate doing yardwork (we start ‘em early)…

Tate giving Noah tips on form.

I was hoping he would teach me too, but between collecting the walnuts and mowing the lawn, he ran out of time.

Baby Gabe with Uncle Matt — precious! (You too, Matt.)

Auntie Karlyn and Gabe again… Is it me, or are bald baby heads irresistible? Something about the smell of soap…

Speaking of irresistible…

There I go again.

Here’s Pete and his mom, who is at least 50% responsible for his good looks and charm.

Pop can take credit for the other half. Here he is with Cousin Halle.

Who looks more angelic than rascally.

Anyone up for a round of Duck, Duck, Goose? (Colm and Karlyn are the reigning champions.)

And after all that play, we simply pack the kids up in the toy box and take a siesta.

It works. You should try it.

(I told you we were a little fruity.)

Many thanks to Nana and Pop-Pop for their generous hospitality, their bottomless love, and their remarkable gene pool. If our family is, indeed, like an orange, God certainly made this one especially sweet.