Upsherin (a.k.a. Channuka Chalakah)

FF turned three recently, but rather than give him his first haircut as close as possible to his birthday, we decided to wait until the kids were off (FF) or getting out early (BSM) from  school, anyway. So on the last day of Channukah, we went to Yerushalayim for BSM's first haircut (yid. upsherin, heb. chalakah). First we went to Husbinator's Yeshiva and his rebbeim took various snips, and then we went to the barber for the actual haircut.

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As an aside, I would like to take this opportunity to point out that BY is one of the select few babies that hates the car. He rarely sleeps in the car. He rarely sits calmly in the car. He cries in the car, whether the car is moving or stopped. With a good bit of work, he can be convinced to sleep in his car seat when it's attached to its stroller base, and if he doesn't have a reason to cry, he'll sit calmly in the car seat when it's on its stroller base. (Though he usually has a reason to cry if we've stuck him in his stroller.) But fall asleep in his car seat when in a vehicle he will not.

So that's another reason to be grateful for the weird tickets that my sister-in-law (you know who you are: do you want to pick your own BlogName?) found for us. The first reason for gratitude is that the tickets in question were So. Cheap. The reason the tickets were so cheap is that they involve a stopover in the US, whereat we change to our second flight, which in our case is run by Amtrak. So I can wear or otherwise hold BY rather than listen to him scream in the car for two hours after having been stuck on a plane with him for approximately forever.
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Anyway, back to the chalakah, as long as BY was not in the car, he was happily in the carrier, and only reluctantly came out to nurse before going back to sleep in said carrier. FF, like BSM at his own upsherin, seemed rather dazed by the whole affair. However, he snapped out of his quiet compliance when we passed a supermarket that had cleverly placed a rack of chips outside its door. From that point on, we had to continuously tell him that we were making one more short stop before buying his chips, and since we would buy him said chips after said stop, therefore we had to make said stop, or else how could he possibly get his chips? He was as confused by that as you probably are, but crucially, he was convinced and went back to his wide-eyed compliance until after the aforementioned stop, when FF changed his mind and got an ice-cream cone, instead.

Ladies and gentlemen, along with getting his first haircut and first tzitzit and first payot, on the eight day of Channukah, FF learned how to eat an ice-cream cone. He used a combination of a spoon and his tongue very nicely, until looking at me with the stumped declaration, "I don't reach the ice cream." I explained the magic of biting the cone, yes like that, now keep biting all the way around, and now bite all the way around again until you reach the ice cream, and hey look you can eat the ice cream again, and can you guess what you should do when you can't eat the ice cream next time? He was entranced.

Naturally, FF looks adorable in his new haircut, though he is also totally recognizable as his old self. His recognizability is due the fact that his hair was barely shoulder-length before his haircut, along with the critical fact that FF has been consistently wearing a huge knit kippa for months.

BSM was also a champion, and tagged along happily and without complaint. His most memorable statement of the day, made while FF was in the barber's chair, was, "Hey! He looks like me!" Yes, child, he does. I've been getting confused over your pictures since FF was 6 months old. Later, when the kids were jumping on their beds (no, stop jumping, it's bedtime, calm down, small motions), BSM reiterated, "He doesn't look like FF anymore. He looks like me!"

Going Native

Update on the passport front: within 15 minutes of posting about BY's documentation story, I got a phone call from a (courier? mailaman?) saying he was at my address with registered mail, but he didn't see my house, could I please come out? Sure enough, it was BY's Israeli passport!

At his American passport meeting, the security guards kept directing us to the visa line, and I had to explain to guards at both points that we were actually there for a US passport. Then, when we were called to the counter, the consular assistant asked which one of us was passing on the US citizenship. She seemed pleasantly surprised when Husbinator and I exchanged a puzzled look before answering, "Um, both of us!"

For those who are curious, the consulate employees thought that mailing BY's passport should be okay time-wise, but suggested we come pick it up ourselves to be safe. So now we're just waiting for a phone call/email telling us to come and get it, and then our documentation will be all in order! (I expect to get that notification early next week.)