Twas the Week Before Pessach

When I showed Raphaela some of the goodies (relatively speaking, for this holiday) that I had bought for Pessach, she spontaneously exclaimed, "You are the great greatest Mommy!"

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The weather continues to vacillate between full-on Summer and the threats of the return of rain and Winter.  Raphaela suggested, "We should carry our umbrella with us, that way it won't rain." She laughed and continued, "We will have played a big joke on the clouds!"

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I was describing to Raphaela the mob scene that we would face at the supermarket before the holiday, and she came up with this insight:  "Why, that sounds like the plague of Locust."

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We attended the grand opening of the Gazelle Nature Reserve, an oasis less than ten minutes from our house (walking distance), across the street from Raphaela's ballet class.  Raphaela was so busy examining a pair of lady bugs under her nature magnifying glass that we both barely registered the Mayor of Jerusalem, Nir "Batman" Barkat, walking right past us.

 

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After work and errands, we end up at the local bakery almost every day for a quick cookie and cup of something warm and comforting.  As the week goes on, the display window gets more and more empty, just as our own shelves at home become less and less populated with chametz.  He really does make the best coffee in town, and I will sorely miss it for the next week and a half.

At home, having run out of breakfast cereal, Raphaela is eating things like canned corn and fruit salad for breakfast.

 

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Raphaela announced with pride, "We almost finished all the junk food we got on Purim from the Mishloach Manot!  I didn't think we could do it..."

 

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Just as every child awaits the annual Purim costume catalog, today we received the annual Pessach toy catalog, toward the ritual of Afikoman presents after the night of Seder.  Of course my daughter picked out everything Elsa and Anna (from Disney's Frozen), unaware that I have already ordered a special gift; with the hopes that this activity will get us well through the week of vacation next week.  I bought her a play house that one must first color and then construct,.

Assuming it is no more complicated than a piece of furniture from IKEA, we should be OK.

 

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In cleaning the house, I have come across puzzles and toys that Raphaela has outgrown and probably not even played with for the last few years.  Normally (to avoid potential debate and trauma)  I donate these toys to an organization during the day, when Raphaela is not home to catch me in the act.   As we will be having Seder with my brother and his family this year, and as my daughter seems to have matured, I asked her if she would agree to give these items to her younger cousin, who is not even two years old.  Raphaela immediately agreed, and even went around the house with me to find things I may have missed. 

 

She's a great kid, she's a keeper.

 

Play Date Heartbreak

My daughter, Little Miss Social Butterfly, had asked me to arrange a play date with her friend M for this afternoon, after school.  When I picked up the children, both she and her friend were grinning ear to ear and making all sorts of plans for their time together at our house.

As we got closer to our street, the boy started to fret and asked me to take him to his house.  Though he could not be specific about his discomfort, he clearly wanted to abort this play date, which then caused Raphaela to crumple on the side walk and cry in the face of a perceived rejection.

I assured M that I would respect whatever he was feeling, and after dropping him off, Raphaela was inconsolable.  I explained to her that both children and grown ups sometimes get into a situation where they get afraid and plans change;  that M is still her good friend and that he does not think any less of her or their friendship; that her sense of frustration and disappointment is totally normal; and that M can come another day, when he is feeling less anxious.

We then spent a better part of the afternoon on a special project, transforming a large empty IKEA box into an airplane, whereupon we 'flew' to the United States to visit my brother and his family.  I can only assume that Raphaela and I had more leg room in our airplane (Air Susie) than we will in reality when we fly to the United States this summer for my youngest brother's wedding.

Brave

Today, after dropping off Raphaela at Gan, I had a few hours free before work.
I got into my car and sat in Route One traffic, got to IKEA without getting lost and was one of the first customers in the store.
For a change, I had brought a shopping list, basically stuck to the list and did not exceed my planned budget.
I ate Swedish meatballs, had no near miss driving experiences on the way home on the highway,  and got home in time to pick up Raphaela.

These are all big things for me, each step along the way, marred only by the fact that I did not have a friend to accompany me and enjoy the day trip to Sweden.  It's the little touches, a new throw pillow or bathmat or laundry basket, that freshens up the house.

Now someone has to help me together all this stuff...

My Daughter the Yekke

The Carnival at Gan on Friday featured a full small animals petting zoo, with an iguana, a turtle, a pheasant, a rabbit and a hamster.  The turtle, poor thing, received the brunt of the abuse from the smaller children, with them pulling the limbs, dropping him and spinning him around on the floor. I watched as one child got especially violent with this creature, and for five minutes the mother actually encouraged her son to continue in this vein of abusive curiosity.  Several parents including myself couldn't handle it anymore, and at one point I said, "OK, I think it is time to give another child a turn with the turtle."  Afterwards, this small group of horrified mothers agreed that "No" or "Kindness and Gentleness" would have been lovely words to hear, that it is never too early to start giving toddlers boundaries.

The rabbit and hamster didn't fare much better, but at least they could run away.  Raphaela took it upon herself to protect the hamster; she put him in an open box with some cucumbers for food and sat in the corner of the room, stroking him gently.  When other children approached, she mediated their interaction, and if they got too rough, she stopped them.

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The Carnival also had a bouncy castle, and most of the children threw their shoes off and dove right inside. Raphaela, disturbed by the chaos of shoes and sandals scattered about, took it upon herself to match up all the pairs and line them up neatly at the side of the courtyard.  Only then could she continue her play, reflecting, of course, my preference for order and for putting things away so you can find it afterwards.

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On Shabbat, bored and playing independently in the other room, Raphaela took apart a small bookcase, laying out each shelf and piece of the frame of the floor.  She had almost as much fun watching me put it back together (cursing under my breath) afterwards.

At least I know that she has the IKEA gene, which I am sadly lacking.