Scene: Yom Kippur afternoon, about 45 minutes left to go.
I am on the couch, trying to move as little as possible. Children decide it's time for Beauty Parlor using plastic utensils from our extensive set of kitchen toys.
Ariella yanks the hair on the right side of my head into a pony. Yaakov carefully works the left side of my hair with a carving knife.
"Do you think it's too short, Ariella?" he asks, applying a second coating of spatula.
"No, I think it's good." Yank.
Yaakov dips the fork into the teapot to get it wet before gently combing it through.
"Are you going to the party to see who is the beautest to marry the prince?" he inquires.
I teach my children early on that good looks can get you far.
"Yes. Is Daddy the prince?"
"No, Mommy," replies Ariella - yank - "he's just a regular Yisrael."
Nadav wanders over every so often and shoves a fork into my mouth as far as it will go. When it begins to activate the gag reflex, I gently remove it.
After applying just a dollop of butter knife, Yaakov declares me fit for the ball.
And now we're down to 15 minutes! Fast is almost over AND I'm looking smokin' to boot. Thanks, kids.
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