Jamaica, Mon

Last month, I joined my sister Keely and her family on a vacation to Jamaica. My brother-in-law, Keith, has a funny habit of teaching his small children to say really hilarious things in response to seemingly innocuous questions.

Christina had many funny ones, not sure if there is one that Keith taught her.

With Nicole, it went like this:
"Nicole, what do you want for Christmas?"
Nicole, with small Long Island accent: "More hair."

With Allison, it has been:
"Allie, where are you going when you turn 3?"
Allie, "To Jamaicamon on a big airplane."

Anyway, in our family Jamaica quickly became Jamaicamon, one word. It was a relaxing trip--four days of sitting on the beach, getting a weird sunburn and having fun with my family. Katie, Anthony, Elizabeth and Keely's friends the Angelos also joined the trip, bringing our group to 13 fabulous participants.

Upon arrival in Jamaica, I once again had momentary trouble with my Passport photo. Now seven years old, the photo doesn't really look like me--and Customs agents everywhere have pointed this out. In Jamaica, the woman gave me a dubious look, engaged the help of her colleague, who decided it was me, and then said, "What did you do?"

As we were traveling from the airport to the resort, Nicole and Christina noticed a number of KFCs in Jamaica. They were surprised.
"You can find KFC pretty much everywhere you go," I explained.
"Who knew?" said Nicole

When we were seated in the greeting area at the resort, Christina accepted a kids' cup with bendy straw of fruit punch. I teased her a bit for having such a little beverage. She replied, "I'm a tween, I can do that."

Here's the crowd enjoying one of many fabulous sunsets: