Nadav Checks In

Hi everyone. I'm back. I've been really busy making demands of the big people in my life so I haven't had much time for blogging. And honestly, I wish I didn't have to make the demands. If my people truly loved me, they would bring me the chocolate milk and candy without me even having to ask.

It's bad enough that I have to say the whole sentence out loud: "Ba li shoko/Give me chocolate milk" [Ed. note: "ba li" is one of Hebrew's worst contributions to language. It essentially means "this is coming to me, so give it to me." We cured Ariella of saying it and its partner, "lo ba li," aka "not gonna do it," by making her pay us a shekel every time she said it. Nadav, though, knows not the value of money, only caring about the size of shekel that will fit into his shirt pocket. That is, on the days that he demands a shirt with a pocket. On the other days, do not dare suggest a shirt with a pocket. LO BA LI!!!!]

But then they say, "Ask nicely, Nadav." So then I have to say, "Nicee." Geeze. And they say I'M demanding. Anyway, having to put in requests for life's essentials is really time consuming. Also taking up a lot of my time? My endless, tireless hunt for candies and cookies. And picking out my clothes in the morning. (Why can't they understand that the specific shirt I'm looking for has to feel like this? You know, this? And why does she make that noise that sounds suspiciously like exasperation when I tell her I want my Snoopy underpants to have ONLY Snoopy on them? I am a purist after all. None of this "Snoopy and weird yellow bird" or "Snoopy and soccer ball." JUST SNOOPY. How difficult can this be???) I am also busy memorizing the entire oeuvre of Curious George and of course, going to gan every day, where I learn lots of wonderful Jewish prayers that I like to belt out when I'm lying, naked, on the changing table.

Anyway, despite my busy schedule, I wanted to stop in and clear some things up, some misunderstandings and misconceptions that really must be clarified:

1. My clothes are mine. None of this, "Oh, I remember when Yaakov/Tani/Amichai wore this!" (Those last two are my cousins; Mommy inexplicably, and without my approval, hugs and kisses them as well. It's bad enough she does that to Yaakov and Ariella. I only barely tolerate this public display of affection for someone other than myself because often when we go to Aunt Leezy's, there is pizza.)

But clearly, these clothes could not have belonged to these other children because
a. They don't fit them! Seriously! Are these parents deranged???? Does it really look like Yaakov could fit into my shorts??? I may try to take my shirt off by shimmying it down my legs, but at least I understand size.
b. THEY ARE MINE. MINE MINE MINE!!!!

2. Speaking of things that are mine: Mommy. I get that we need the other people in the house sometimes. Daddy is always good for a game of Lions. And the other kids have awesome toys I can play with/steal/break. Also, when Mommy is sitting with me at night till I fall asleep, the other ones can bring me cups of water. But this whole "She's our Mommy, too" line that they try to pull with me? Nuh uh. Not having any of that. They ask irrelevant questions like, "Nadav, who is Ariella's mommy? Who is Yaakov's mommy?" Like I care. Sometimes, they won't quit, they just keep badgering me, so I tell them, "I am." or "Daddy is." That's fine. They can have daddy. He's like the parenting consolation prize. But Mommy is MINE! MINE! MINE!!! (Though I do like to mess with her sometimes and say in my sweetest voice, "Ani ohev rak Daddy. I only love Daddy." It's usually worth a few extra hugs from her and maybe, maaaaybe, if I'm lucky one day, some candy.)

Well, I'm off to spill bathwater on the floor or find a book that Mommy can read to me lots and lots of times in one sitting. She really loves that. I can tell because she rolls her eyes and clenches her jaw, which she does a lot with me, so it must be a sign of affection. Catch you all later. Keep it real.