Now, I know you've all been dying to know: Did Yaakov wear anything strange today when he went to gan?
And the answer is: In fact he did! He insisted on wearing socks. On his hands. Luckily, he consented to wear another pair on his feet; just as luckily, there are no gloves to be found in our apartment (thanks to our 80-degree winter.)
He put them on this morning, and I let him wear them into the car, thinking he would take them off before gan. But no. As we marched into gan, other parents were giving him, then me, strange looks. He went in by himself (kol hakavod!), so I did not get a chance to explain to the ganenet that no, he is not, God forbid, diseased or badly damaged. Just strange. (I actually called gan after dropping him off, just to reassure them of this. He's b'seder. Just strange.)
I don't know how long he had them on for, but in the afternoon, the morah told me she was pleading with him to remove them, as it was, like we discussed earlier, rather balmy. In the end he did take them off, and they were in his tik when I picked him up. All ready for tomorrow.
In other Yaakov news, he informed Ariella that when she was a baby, Mommy let him hold her. Ariella patiently tried to explain how this event would have been impossible, but Yaakov is blessed with the ability to ignore incontrovertible evidence. He also insists that every baby picture of Ariella is, in fact, really of him. Because how can it be that the family - nay, the world! - existed before Yaakov Lev??????
From the title of my book on child-rearing ("Leave Me Alone so I Can Read the Paper,") you may have deduced that I firmly believe that the best kind of parenting is when you have to parent very little at all. So it was with great pride and happiness that I report to you the following events of Shabbat morning:
Kids got up. Ariella helped Yaakov with the bathroom. She got them both breakfast (my job is to take out the bowls and the Shabbat cereal the night before.) After breakfast, they sat on the couch and Ariella read (!) to Yaakov the book he brought home from gan.
Ahhhh.....Shabbat bliss. It lasted until after SEVEN O'CLOCK. (If I see a "7" on the clock on Shabbat morning instead of a "6," I'm a happy woman.) When, inevitably, one of the following occurred: someone's hair was pulled, someone was called stupid, someone didn't listen to someone else's rules, someone sat in someone else's spot, etc. etc. etc. One of the myriad reasons they proceed to beat the #$#$*& out of each other.
But, until 7:something, it was a beautiful thing.
Stay tuned: Tomorrow I sub again - this time in Hebrew!!