Last night before bed, Raphaela and I read the Dr. Seuss classic, "Yertle the Turtle."  I had always thought it was a not-so-veiled reference to Hitler and World War II, or at the very least an anti-bullying diatribe.

After we finished the book, I asked Raphaela what she learned, what she thought about the moral of the story, and she replied, "We learn the God is bigger than all of us."

Well push me down with a feather, I did not see that answer coming.

Rosh HaShanah

This year we attended synagogue both days, for the sounding of the shofar and because so many of Raphaela's friends from school seem to attend this particular place of worship. (Instant play date, yay!)  Additionally, it is located oh so conveniently three doors away from our building.

Before the blowing of the shofar, they lay out several tables of all the most classic/salty/unhealthy Israeli junk food that exists in the market.  Plus cakes and lollipops and Coca Cola, in case you didn't have enough variations of bisli, bamba and wafers.

On the first day, Raphaela filled her cup, and went back for second and fourths and sixth helpings.  I was almost embarrassed at a certain point, I could feel the disapproving stares of the other mothers who I am sure thought that I never feed my daughter. Anything.

At one point one woman came over to me and said, "I am guessing that you don't stock up on these things at home." Relieved that I was receiving the benefit of the doubt, I replied, "We have some basic treats, like chocolate and cookies, but nothing this unhealthy crosses the threshold into our house."

"Don't worry," this woman continued. "She seems like a self-assured and happy child, and when it comes to the Jewish holidays, give up any control you think you have over the engorging of junk food."

She continued, "As my saintly father of blessed memory used to say, 'Better a visit to the dentist than a stint on the psychologist's couch.'""

And to add to the party, the youth group also awarded the kids lollipops and marshmallows.  I prayed (in the spirit of the season) that Raphaela would come to her own conclusions, with a little help from a stomach ache.

Needless to say, on the second day in synagogue Raphaela showed a little more restraint, without any encouragement from me.  She even chose to eat dates over toffee.

This One's On Me

Raphaela has now officially had two weeks of First Grade, and overall, seems to be enjoying the experience.  She has not quite grasped the idea that she does not want too much homework, and has been purposely not completing tasks during class time, so we can have that quality (stressful) time together at home.  I am trying to communicate to her that homework is not good for our relationship.

The only task she found frustrating this week was computer class:  they had time to draw a picture on screen and she told me that it "did not come out right" because she couldn't control the mouse.

Well of course, because I perhaps spend all of ten minutes on the computer every day, and when we are home together, we do play;  with dolls or art projects or reading books, but the computer never gets turned on.  Part of this has been an active choice, I believe in old-fashioned play, and part of it probably stems from the fact that I am a Luddite by nature.

Watching her frustration, however, I must get beyond my own issues with modern technology and admit that her generation was born with an iPhone in their hands; and that without proper comfort and training in computers, I am leaving my daughter at a disadvantage.

It hit me more a few days ago when she had a play date, and the first thing her new friend asked was whether we had any good computer games.

So now, every day, I set aside a half hour every day for computer play time. I have found two good free sites with games and coloring pages (nickjr and pbskids/Dr Suess) and I am forcing Raphaela to get comfortable with the mouse.  Forcing in a fun kind of way, because it is good for her.

The Literal Life

Raphaela, well trained in the art of not crossing the street at the red light, crossing the striped pedestrian's crossing yesterday, jumping from white stripe to white stripe.

When asked why she was putting in all this physical effort, she looked at me and reminded me that I had taught her only to cross "on the white stripes."  I gave her permission to also walk on the black stripes in between...

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Getting dressed this morning, Raphaela advised me that today she felt like wearing the color green.  I took out an outfit from her drawer, a green skirt and her Green Eggs and Ham t-shirt, and she objected.

"Because," she began, "I am going to a new Gan, I must wear new clothing.  And I want to wear a skirt, but this skirt is not new. I have worn it before."

I explained that she had the choice of her green clothing or her new clothing, and that in this case they were mutually exclusive.  We went with Dr. Seuss in the end.

Sign of the Times

"The Cat in the Hat Comes Back," written in 1958 as a sequel to the classic, "The Cat in the Hat," ostensibly teaches the alphabet, and the lesson that as long as you clean up your mess before your parents come home, it all works out.

Every week we take a book out of our local library for new reading on Shabbat, and "The Cat in the Hat Comes Back" won this weeks lottery.  I didn't remember it all that well from my own childhood, and was surprised to find that I had a few unexpected objections to the text.

For starters, in both this book and the original, Sally and her brother are left home alone by their parents, and they don't seem old enough;  I wonder why the mother and father would not consider hiring a baby sitter.

Secondly, when the Cat in the Hat cleans the mess he has caused, at a certain point he transfers it to "Dad's bedroom."  Is this a reflection of married life in the 50's, where parents slept in separate rooms? Or is it the male-centered society of the last several centuries defining the parents' private space as controlled by the Man of the House?  (Historical or other explanations welcome.)

But most seriously disturbing was the language used toward the end of the book, when the Cat in the Hat must call upon his A-B-C minions to clean up the pink snow.  (From the cake he was eating in the bathtub, don't ask...More preferable in any case to yellow snow.)

And I quote,
 My cats are all clever.
My cats are good shots.
My cats have good guns. [pop-guns]
They will kill all those spots...

"Come on! Kill those spots!
Kill the mess!" yelled the cats.
And they jumped at the snow
With long rakes and red bats.

Perhaps Dr. Seuss was attempting some anti-war statement, but in today's era of shootings at schools, a rise in violence overall,  and the American debate about gun control laws, I would hardly consider this language appropriate for children Raphaela's age.  So I found myself changing the text, using the word "fix" instead of "kill," and toning down the number of times the word "bad" is used throughout the book.

My generation of parents, we are raising our children in a post 9/11 environment, in the era where PC language rules.  Beyond that, I am raising Raphaela in a country where war and terrorism come into the house along with breakfast cereal;  she certainly does not have to learn the word "kill" any earlier than is necessary.

Valentines Day, Bah Humbug

This year, Israel has fully embraced Valentines Day, the malls are festooned with red heart shaped paraphernalia and I have turned into the Grinch.

Let me state unequivocally that my objections are not based upon my status as a single person, currently uninvolved with a partner.

Valentines Day is a holiday created and sponsored by Hallmark, candy makers and flower sellers.  Valentines Day mocks any unattached male or female, and says "Ha ha, NO ONE  will be sending you a mushy card, NO ONE will be buying you flowers or planning a romantic dinner.  You are not getting special Valentines Day Sex tonight, ha ha."

I do not enjoy feeling excluded.  We all, all of us human beings on the planet, deserve to feel loved, every day of the year.

Bah Humbug...