It was a quiet sunny Sunday morning in the coastal scenic southern Israeli city of Ashdod. Suddenly, the tranquility was broken.

A screaming Israeli Air Force F16 was on its way to a bombing raid on the Gaza Strip. With the rumbling still echoing over the city, a wailing rocket siren went off -- a red alert alarm. Within seconds, an "Iron Dome" missile was launched and intercepted the incoming rocket. Inside the city's central bus station, Hava Pinto and her family were waiting for a bus to Jerusalem. "It isn't safe for us here so we're leaving the city for the day; we came back in the evening because we don't have anywhere else to stay," said the 12-year-old girl.

Several hundred meters away, two playgrounds were empty. A high school nearby was closed.

Not far from the school stands a building, which sustained a direct rocket hit just a day ago. Fortunately, no one was killed.

Property Tax Authority assessors were on the scene to evaluate the damage. The rocket hit the fourth floor during lunch time. The family has been evacuated to a hotel.

Another "red alert" of incoming rockets burst out, forcing residents, passers-by and the assessors into the staircase of the building.

On the second floor lives the Amsaleg family and their children, Natanel and Ilay. "This is not life!" the grandmother complained.

Natanel haven't eaten since Saturday. "I've been sick because of the missile," he said.

And yet another alert, Natanel cut short his quick snack and ran back to the staircase.

Since the start of the hostilities, some four Palestinian children have been killed by Israeli fire; and one Israeli child has been wounded by Palestinian fire. But between both worlds, as with the adults, there's very little sympathy.

Natanel was nine-year-old Sunday.

"We'll celebrate your birthday when all this will be over. Right Natanel?" his mom, Dvora Amsaleg, comforted him.

"What do you wish for your birthday?" we asked him.

"I wish that we'd kill all the Arabs and their children," he answered.

"You shouldn't say such awful things," Natanel's mother chimed in. "Jews and Arabs, we're all human beings. Like us, they're stuck in an impossible quagmire. Just like us, they didn't ask for it."

Natanel noded his ascent.

The day was spent watching the television's round-the-clock news bulletins, watching what's happening right here, at home: Israel's ferocious assault on Hamas in Gaza just 23 kilometres away; the destruction of incoming rockets.

Natanel was bored: "I wish I'd go to school and play with my friends."

Another rocket attack -- it's the third in one hour -- and another rocket interception.

Ten minutes later, "So, when's your birthday party, Natanel?" we asked.

"In one month," he answered, "When the war's over ..."