“I am Jewiss” G.said after school last week. I had let him bring his wooden dreidle to school and he’d brandished it like it was the slickest, coolest find. He was so proud!
“I am Jewiss and so is Julia,” he said in reference to a classmate. “And that’s why we don’t have a Christmas tree.”
Yes, you are Jewish. And remember last year? We had a tree, right? Because Daddy’s family celebrates Christmas. So a Christmas tree is also part of our family’s celebration.
For all the cultural confusion I’m inflicting on him, he generally takes it in stride. For now, at least. I’ll put the Chanukah gelt in his therapy fund.
We had a little Chanukah party this weekend with friends. And after 5 days of saying the blessings over the candles, G seemed to have the brachot down!
This moment breaks my heart. He sings along so seriously, half the words he gets, the other he makes up unselfconsciously. His eyes are beautifully wide. He seems to feel that there is something special and simple in that moment of ceremony, the family gathered in front of a point of light, singing a song.
And it is through this that I remember I can enjoy it, too.
If the world will ever be redeemed, it will be only through the merit of children.
Oib di velt vet verren oislayzt, iz es nor in schus fun kinder.