We are Panama (or as the boychild pronounces it, “Panamar”) bound in ONE DAY!!! This will be our first overseas trip since DivaB (nee BabyB, now almost 2 years old) was born.

View from the house we'll be staying in

As a blatant reminder of how far I am from my easygoing, backpacking-around-Asia days, I’ve actually packed our entire household into three bags, replete with mama-know-best travel necessities like powdered milk (if we run out, believe me, tragedy will ensue), life-vests and a binky supply that would quell an entire orphanage of wailing babies. Hubby drew the line at bringing my impulse purchase of a noise machine at Best Buy. Right. Who cares that we are all, at this point, addicted to the gentle whirr of white noise, courtesy of two friendly fans we’ve got going in the bedrooms at night? We can break this habit! Instead, we’ll be falling asleep the gentle cries of snoring toads and mating scorpions.

This trip will also herald the end of DivaB’s addiction to Kipper. Know the show? It’s about a friendly dog of indeterminate age, who very strangely lives alone, sans owner. How does he feed himself, I ask you? Who buys his Purina? These questions are probably irrelevant, as most of the action centers on the adventures Kipper has with his friend Tiger, another dog, and a pig, aptly named Pig – who very strangely has his own baby pig in tow. Who is the mother of this piglet? We will never know. Kipper is a British show – and therefore delightfully charming and basically harmless.

And yet our innocent little girl is addicted to a show whose apparent morals would make Sarah Palin poop her pants. The way DivaB runs for the remote in the morning, thrusts it into our hands and screams if we don’t put it on in the morning, has me about to dial the nearest methadone clinic. Therefore, two Kipper DVDs will travel with us on the airplane with our portable DVD player (yes, we’re firmly entrenched in early 1990s technology in this family), though we shan’t be playing the DVDs once in Panama.

I’m certainly looking forward to being out of our routine. Let’s hope the cold turkey doesn’t bring on cold sweats and straightjackets.

Till 2012!

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