I have a few quiet minutes to write while everyone is sleeping off the midday southern heat. Our vacation has been lovely so far.

We departed Sunday morning with remarkable efficiency for us. As far as we can tell, we only forgot one thing this trip � AJ�s potty seat. And he has not let us forget it, asking �Why did you forget my potty seat� repeatedly in an accusatory manner as if what he really means is, �Why am I saddled with such incompetent parents?�

AJ proved once again to be a stellar traveler. Aside from his abject terror of automatic-flushing toilets, which seem to be de rigeur in highway rest stops these days, he was a very entertaining travel companion. He helped us spot silly road signs like �Fresh hot! Breakfast!� and our annual favorites, �Big Bone Lick State Park� and �The French Broad.� After one uneventful night on the road, we arrived at my mom and dad�s Monday evening in time for dinner. AJ, after two days cooped up in the car, spent most of the evening running laps through the house. He explored every nook and cranny, finally picking up a magnifying glass from the coffee table and wandering around with it inspect even the smallest details.

There is something about the weight of southern summer weather and the scent of the ocean air that demands that you spend many hours fanning yourself in a lounge chair on the veranda drinking fruity drinks with paper umbrellas. And even if you don�t literally engage in such activities, you feel like you have. My parents live on a lagoon. In the spring, when we usually come, you will often see alligators flopped up on their lawn sunning themselves next to the water. At this time of year, however, the alligators generally insulate themselves from the heat by burying themselves in mud in shady corners out of sight. The attraction at the moment is the silver fish who leap as much as six feet in the air before flopping back into the lagoon. In the late afternoon, it almost sounds like a popcorn popper.

Tuesday was largely spent recuperating from the long trip. We were all tired and, true to form, I came down with a particularly unpleasant cold, so we were all a little crotchety. I took AJ to the beach in the morning, but he was feeling a little overwhelmed by all the new things and became convinced that the waves were trying to attack him. We tried the kids� pool instead. But he became panic-stricken when his toy boat sailed across the open water without him and could not be consoled. We went home to nap and regroup and ended up spending a substantial portion of the afternoon watching videos. We did venture out shortly before dinner to investigate the new and very fancy hotel that has opened nearby. AJ was enchanted by an enormous, sweeping staircase (think Gone With the Wind, except on a hotel scale) and even more enthralled with the two little girls already sprinting up and down it. AJ insisted on playing too. As we climbed the stairs to go by them at the top, I heard one say, �Oh no, it�s midnight! We must go down!� They ran down four steps, carefully removed one pink, flowered flip-flop each, and gently placed them on a step and ran the rest of the way down. Alas, no prince appeared to collect their footwear. Only a babysitter who said it was time to go. They were forced to retrieve their sandals themselves before racing down the hall and out of sight.

Wednesday morning we ventured to the beach en masse and had a much more successful trip. The tide was very low and we headed first to the string of tide pools that bisected the beach. Some were fairly deep � nearly up to my knees � and perfect for AJ to play in. He sailed his boat, dug castles and moats, and splashed to his hearts content. He was still expressing angst about the waves until Grandma showed him how to play chase with them. This he loved. Soon he was splashing around in the surf. When I tucked him in for his nap this afternoon, as he hugged me goodnight and snuggled under the covers he asked, �Remember how that big wave almost knocked me down? That was fun!� There is hope for him after all.

The real treat of the day was an unexpected late birthday present from my mom and dad. They had made an appointment for me at the local spa for a facial. Now I have had a facial exactly once before � a wedding shower present � at my husband�s cousin�s salon. It was a fairly clinical process. The room looked rather like a doctor�s office and there were stainless steel instruments involved. This was wholly different.

The spa is built up over a salt marsh (which, for those unfamiliar with them, look rather like vast savannahs). From the parking lot, you cross a narrow footbridge across the grasses, past several fountains and enter the stone lobby that smells pleasantly of indeterminate herbs. I sat in a chair there for a few moments, looking out the picture window over the marsh until an attendant came to escort me in. She opened the door of a private changing room and showed me in. I was given a soft robe and slippers with massaging nubs on the sole. As instructed, I placed what the attendant referred to as my �unmentionables� in a silver bag and left the rest of my belongings on a chair. When I was ready, I opened the door on the other side of the room and was met by another attendant who showed me into the central treatment area. There was a central sitting area, an outdoor porch with lounge chairs and a whirlpool overlooking the marsh as well as several frosted glass doors behind which hid a toilet, two showers, a sauna and a steam room. Given my current cold, I headed for the steam room, awkwardly changing from robe to towel wrap. The room was perfumed with eucalyptus and I instantly felt my head clear. After I�d had all I could take, I returned to my robe, grabbed my book and headed for the porch with a glass of water flavored with floating slices of strawberries, limes, lemons and oranges. When it was time for my facial, I was fetched and ushered into a darkened room with high, cedar ceilings and yet another view, through a dimming perforated shade, of the marsh. I was instructed to change from a robe into another wrap and to lie down on the table. �Table� was a great misnomer. I suspect there was something like a massage table underneath the lightly scented sheets, but the delicate silk-wrapped down quilt on top made me feel like I was lying instead in some kind of expensive featherbed.

For the next hour I listened to piano music by Debussy, Ravel, Satie and Chopin while someone massaged assorted ointments into my face, neck, shoulders and scalp. It was nearly trance-inducing. I found that when I came out I had absolutely no sense of how much time had passed. As the whole experience seemed to be geared towards maximum sensory detail, I had one of the most psychedelic synesthetic experiences I have ever had � great kaleidoscopes of color.

After it was over, I felt dazed. I stared out the window for a few minutes trying to regroup before returning to my robe and slippers. As I left the room, I was handed a bottle of water and escorted back to the waiting area. I headed for the porch and sat sipping my water until I had regained my equilibrium. I gave my poor sinuses another trip to the steam room and headed for the shower.

The attendant who had first shown me in had said, after I had told her I�d never been to a spa before, �I always give people this advice. If you take a shower, everything�s labeled. Don�t pay any attention to that. Just turn everything on.� I had no idea what she was talking about at the time, but it became very clear when I entered the shower. Jets sprouted from all corners. I turned everything on. I could have stayed there all day.

Fortunately for my husband, who was on childcare duty while I was gone, I managed to drag myself out of my hedonistic binge and return to reality by taking AJ on a trip to the playground that involved much yelling, sliding, and itching (mosquitoes are swarming in alarming numbers).

Today involved another trip to the pool and beach (ho-hum!) and a trek into town to take AJ out for lunch (which involved bouillabaisse for me and large quantities of pommes frites for AJ, and his first ever trip to an aquarium, which was a huge success. AJ loved the otters best, but he also was amazed by the flounders burying themselves in the sand. I myself was completely entranced by the delicate jellyfish, glowing slightly in the dim light of their tanks. My favorite moment, however, was at the hands-on part of the exhibit. AJ had his hands in the tank up to his elbows trying to reach a whelk on the bottom when a lobster swam across the back of his hand. He was startled and whipped his hand out, drenching himself and me. He was afraid at first, but also fascinated. The creature fascinated him and I think the momentary point of contact made a huge impression on him. He sang songs all the way back to the house.

And now, I should drag myself out of my comfy perch on the windowseat in the room we call the treehouse (because its windows are encircled by branches of large live oaks dripping with Spanish moss) and go help my mother with dinner.

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