Have we really become that Israeli?

When we lived in the US I recall the pile of forms that would arrive home whenever the kids would be going on a class trip off of school grounds.  It might only be a short bus trip to a local museum or a visit to the old age home to cheer up the residents.  The packet of paper for such outings included detailed itineraries, permission slip, liability release forms, emergency contact information forms, etc. 

An overnight trip would (at a minimum) include all sorts of medical release forms (allowing someone else to make medical decisions in an emergency if we couldn't be reached), plus the name of the place(s) they would be staying and the contact information for all the adult chaperones.

I mention this because my daughter went on her 'Tiyul Sh'nati (annual class trip) this week. 

Some time ago I may have signed something giving her permission to go... but I don't really recall.  If so, it was a forgettable one-page thing. 

When I was helping her stuff her backpack with clothes and other essentials, I asked her where the trip was going and she didn't really know.  And I didn't give it a second thought.

When I kissed her good-bye in the morning I asked her to make sure she had her cell phone with her and told her to have a good time.

When she called that evening to say good night, I asked her if she was having fun (she was) but forgot to ask her where she was.  And again, I was totally OK with that.

The next day she phoned me from a cable car at Rosh Hanikra (on the Lebanese border) squealing with delight at having spotted one of the naval Boats my company designs and manufactures for the IDF, patrolling the coastal waters between Israel and Lebanon.  I was proud that she had recognized the boat and pleased she was getting to see the beautiful caves and grottoes at Rosh Hanikra... but again, I didn't have a moment's pause over the fact that she had turned up in a totally unexpected place on an enemy border.  She was having fun with her class and that was totally OK with me.

Last night she came home full of stories about her fabulous trip... but we weren't home.  Zahava and I were out with friends when she called to say she was back.  Of course she wanted to start telling me stories about all the places they had seen, but we were in a Jerusalem pub listening to the daughter of a friend perform a nice Carlebach repertoire.  So I whispered for her to get some sleep and told her that she could tell us all about it in the morning.

When I hung up the phone Zahava turned to me and casually whispered, "Oh, is Ariella home?  Good.".  And we both promptly went back to enjoying the performance.

Have we really become such laid-back Israeli parents?!