Do you have a clue? Cuz I don't.

So many new Loyal Readers to welcome!


Welcome to LR #40, Chana, LR #41, Laurie, LR #42 Shmuel "I Have to do Everything My Wife Does" Popper, and LR #43, ViKa! Glad to have you all on board! If any of you googled "traifin" or "Bais Yaakov pee" and wound up on this blog, you get extra poofahs!


We had Yaakov's mesibat siyum on Friday. It was held at the Maccabim Ritzy Country Club Pool Center. Maccabim, a suburb of Modi'in, is the "Connecticut" to Modi'in's "Riverdale." Yaakov was SO excited about his "mee-Shabbat siyum." So of course he celebrated this excitement by sitting in Daddy's lap the entire time and refusing to participate in the little performance. He did deign to come with one of us when it was time to get his present. (Very awesome, by the way - a t-shirt with all the kids' pictures on it, a photo album with pictures from the whole year, an "official" gan portrait, a folder of his "work" (the sponge painting is truly a masterpiece in its own time), plus a beach ball and floatie things.)


After the performance - which was adorable, but way less adorable when your own adorable kid isn't participating - we all headed over to the kiddie pool area. Suddenly, Yaakov let loose! He had the most fun I've ever seen. (He also let loose in other ways; hey, it's the kiddie pool, what do you expect? I was sitting on the edge when suddenly I saw him crying in the pool. I ran over to him. "Mommy, I was calling you! I said I had to make! And now it already came ooooouuuutttt!" He was so sad, and did not at all understand why it was that I could not hear his pitiful little wails over dozens of screaming kids. Later, when I asked him if he needed to go, he told me, "Nope, I already maked on the floor.")

Anyway, he was playing with his friends and one of his morahs even got in the pool with them. He was having an absolute blast. We took an ice cream break, then he continued to play. Ariella had a great time as well, and it was only 3 hours later when I realized that no Shabbos food had been cooked that we dragged their pruny little bodies out of the pool.


It was funny to watch Yaakov switching between Hebrew with his friends and English with us. At one point, he started talking to his friend Linor in English. "Yaakov," I said, "You need to talk to her in Hebrew."
"I AM," he replied in exasperation. "I said to her, [in a slow, exaggerated voice] Li-nor-y do - you- want - to - play - with - me?"



The Blind Leading the Blind, Israel edition
At the end of the school year, I always write a thank-you note to the kids' teachers, and have the kids draw a little picture for them. As a teacher in my former life, I understand that it's nice to feel appreciated at the end of an entire year's work. (And no, a 4-colored pen with the words "Thanks for everything!" scrawled on it, while a nice gesture, does not cut it, appreciation-wise. "Your kid would still be crying under the table, shredding his paper and munching on toothpicks if it weren't for me!" I want to scream. But I don't.)

So this year, the challenge, of course, was doing these cards in Hebrew. We did it for Ariella's teachers, and for Yaakov's. Both times, I wrote the rough draft, and then Donny looked it over and edited it. Both times, we discussed having a "real Israeli" look it over to correct our creative use of the Hebrew language. Both times, we nixed the idea, presumably, we said, nodding righteously, because we want the teachers to see that it's really "from us." But in reality, we're just too lazy.


It's quite comical, Donny and I asking each other Ivrit questions.
"Do we need a "lamed" or a "bet" after this word?"
"Do people actually use this phrase today, or was the last person who said it old enough to be canonized?"
"How do you conjugate this in the past, with 'they?'"
So we sit there, happily, obliviously, scribbling away, hoping that between the two of us, we've managed to create at least a few non-mangled sentences. It's as if someone shoved us into an operating room to perform open-heart surgery.

"Is that a vein?"

"Dunno. Maybe an artery?"

"Is it supposed to be moving around like that?"

"What's that piece over there?

"Should we call in a 'real doctor?'"

"Nah. This way the patient will know it's truly 'from us.'"