Praising Kids for Disobeying Orders?

Give a child the best birthday present ever . . . the ability to live to celebrate yet another birthday. Click here to register as a bone marrow donor.

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(From three years ago . . .)

I've told David a million times not to try to climb the kitchen garbage can as it can easily topple over. And yet again yesterday I once again caught him trying to climb it. This time, however, he succeeded. I watched as he stood on top, carefully balanced himself, extended himself on his tippy toes and reached up to claim his prize in the cabinet high above.

I was angry that David disobeyed my orders and was scared that he put himself at risk in this manner. Yet I also got nachas watching him tap into unknown physical prowess and at the same time exhibit that he could overcome his fear of daunting tasks. I wasn't sure how to react. A long time ago I read about a German military decoration awarded to soldiers for actions committed while disobeying orders. Now it made complete sense to me.

Pacifiers

Unlike David, Ora needs her pacifier. Once she was even walking around with two of them stuffed in her mouth.

A few weeks she met up with a cousin of the same age who also had a pacifier in her mouth. Someone told them to give each other a hug and kiss. They embraced but every time they brought their heads together they were stymied in their effort to kiss by the obstacle of pacifiers bumping against each other.

Thank God for America

There was an article today on VIN (here) about a Jewish diabetic from Brooklyn who was in a car accident in Sierre Leone. Apparently he died while being treated in a hospital there because insulin was unavailable.

Later in the day at work I opened the fridge and I just stood there gazing at the stock of insulin supplies. Who would think that in the twenty-first century someone could have trouble getting insulin? And in a hospital, no less?

God bless America.

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On the other hand, even in bountiful America there is a great dearth of organ donors. 3,000 Americans die every year while waiting for a bone marrow donation (and many more die from complications due to partially matched donations). Click here to register with the bone marrow donor registry and you can be the one who lowers it to 2,999.

Learning to Ride a Bike

I never thought David would learn how to ride a two-wheeler. And then today he picked it up by himself in under two minutes. Nothing had worked. We tried loosening the training wheels as well as removing one training wheel. Then today I borrowed a "Balance Buddy" but he wouldn't use it for more than five minutes and insisted I put the training wheels back on. As I was reattaching them, his friend's father suggested he try just coasting on a very low bike. We had heard about this method but never got around to borrowing a low bike from someone. And at this point I was consigned to putting the training wheels back on. I put on one and as I went to reattach the other, his friend's father said to me that I may want to hold off with the training wheels. I lifted up my head and to my delightful surprise watched David coasting along and then before I knew he picked up his feet to the pedals and was riding around the track. He looked like a circus clown on the tiny bike but around he went. After two circuits we told him to try his friend's bike, which was in between the low bike and his bike. He effortlessly made a circuit. Then the friend's father suggested David try his own bike without the training wheels. I was sure it was too high for his comfort, but he got on and went around. And around. And around. And fell and got a big bump on his forehead to testify to his efforts. And then around again. And around.

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   We are so proud of him. Nothing can turn this into a bad week.


2. 
   
   Now if only he'd learn to swim and to defend himself I could rest assured that I have fulfilled my paternal responsibilities.


3. 
   
   Never give up on your kid.

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3,000 Americans die every year while waiting for a bone marrow donation (and many more die from complications due to partially matched donations). Click here to register with the bone marrow donor registry and you can be the one who lowers it to 2,999.

Eyelashes

Why do black nurses all go completely nuts over David's eyelashes?

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3,000 Americans die every year while waiting for a bone marrow donation (and many more die from complications due to partially matched donations). Click here to register with the bone marrow donor registry and you can be the one who lowers it to 2,999.

Ora Laughs

I don't mind changing diapers. I hate feeding. Baths are in the middle.

Today I reached right under Ora's chin to clean her neck and she let out a loud giggle. It made today's bathing duty all worth it.

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3,000 Americans die every year while waiting for a bone marrow donation (and many more die from complications due to partially matched donations). Click here to register with the bone marrow donor registry and you can be the one who lowers it to 2,999.

Elokim Sheli: Uzi Chitman to Kinderlach

There is a very catchy old Israeli song that I like, "Ratziti Sheteda," aka "Elokim Sheli" (Hebrew lyrics with English translation here). Here is the author, the legendary Uzi Chitman, singing it:


This song has been sung by various singers in various versions. Some have changed the words (a little or a lot) and most have introduced their own style. By far the most bizarre is this version by Kinderlach and Yisrael Rand. I'm not a fan of bans, but now I completely understand the Lipa ban. This is just wrong. Who do Kinderlach think they are? New Kids on the Block? (Yes, I'm a hypocrite. Sue me.) And I also thought it strange they would sing a song I thought was a bit sacreligious.

My favorite is the Hebrew-English version by Liel Kolet. I'm not a fan of Israelis singing in English, but Liel pulls it off. Note the changes in the English.

In this version by Hadag Nachash the original is barely recognizable:

There is also this version by Harel Skaat and Roni Duani, but it isn't anything special or unusual. Frankly its boring, particularly in light of the above versions.


Finally, in sign language:

Happy Fathers Day--Save a Life

Give a father the best Fathers Day present--save his child's life. If you haven't been swabbed for the bone marrow registry, you can do so today at the Talmud Torah of Flabush (click here) or in Passaic (here).

Childhood Friendships: Quick Review of "Super 8"

I saw "Super 8" last night. It revolves around a group of small-town pre-teens who while filming an amateur zombie movie stumble across an extraterrestrial being on the run from ruthless military types.

I'll tell you below what I thought of the movie overall, but first I want to note that I really enjoyed that at the center of the story was the close friendship of the 5 pre-teen protagonists. I seem to have a soft spot for these types of movies--"Stand By Me," "Sandlot" and "Goonies" come to mind. Sure "Super 8" could have been easily been scripted without this pure adolescent camaraderie dynamic, but then it would have just been a typical horror flick with its stock adolescent characters.

Overall "Super 8" fell short and I think it had a lot more potential. I left the theater feeling like I had just watched a modern remake of ET (with some "Goonies"-type kids thrown in). Yes, the camaraderie dynamic was compelling, the kids' acting was great and I did jump out of my seat a couple of times even though I'm not generally a jumper. But unlike "Sandlot" and "Goonies," which I can watch over and over, I doubt I'd elect to see "Super 8" again, the intense camaraderie notwithstanding.

The truth is I even felt a bit ripped off, particularly for having seen it in IMAX. But it's ok, as at the very least I did get to spend the evening with two of my own long-time friends as we continue our real life camaraderie.

(Q-tips can save a life. If you haven't been swabbed for the bone marrow registry, please click here.)

Go to the Parade, Save a Life

If you are attending the Salute to Israel Parade this Sunday, please stop along the way at the Jewish Community Center (Amsterdam and 76th) and get swabbed. You can help save the life of one-year-old Ayelet Galena or someone else in need of a bone marrow transplant. For more information, click here.

Happy Yom Yerushalayim

Israel's Liel Kolet teams up with the legendary Klaus Maine of the Scorpions to sing an English rendition of everyone's perennial favorite, Naomi Shemer's "Yerushalayim Shel Zahav" (Jerusalem of Gold):

Ofra Haza's angelic version of the original Hebrew:

One more duet with Liel Kolet and Klaus Maine, this time singing a special version of the Scorpions' own classic "Send Me an Angel."

According to Wiki (here) Liel has recorded five songs with the Scorpions. I'm not a fan of Israeli singers performing in English, but she does a pretty decent job of pulling it off.

"Foolish" Rabbis and Parenthood

From Adin Steinsaltz, Talmudic Images (Northvale, NJ: Jason Aronson, Inc., 1997), pp. 46-47:

Many other stories throughout the Talmud and the Midrash reveal other aspects of Rabbi Yehoshua's personality. For example, the Sages came to consult with Rabbi Yehoshua about a strange will, in which a father wrote that he would leave all his property to his son when his son became a fool. The Sages found Rabbi Yehoshua playing with his children, and one of his sons riding on his back. After the game, Rabbi Yehoshua explained that that was precisely what the writer of the will had meant: that he would bequeath his property to his son when the son himself became a father and played the fool with his children (Midrash Shoher Tov [Buber Edition] 92).

I love how this story depicts one of the greatest Sages in his capacity as an ordinary father fooling around with his kids. It's a great book overall too, although unfortunately I left it on an airplane after having read only a few chapters.

Wise-A@@ Frumkeit Part 2

(Click here for part 1)

While reviewing parshas yisro with David we did a quick overview of the aseres hadibros. Some were easy to do and some I elected to skip over altogether (e.g., adultery). And some I modified. So instead of lo sisa I did nivul peh. I told David that we have to be careful with the words we use, but he wanted clarification. And so with a smirk:

David: What about . . .

Abba: Don't say it!

David: I'm not saying it, but I just want to know if *&%! is a bad word.

Abba: Ugh. Yes, it's a bad word. Can we go on?

David: And what about . . .

Abba: Don't say it!

David: I'm not saying it, but I just want to know if @#!^ is a bad word.

Abba: Ugh. Yes, it's a bad word. Can we go on?

David: And what about . . .

Abba: Don't say it!

David: I'm not saying it, but I just want to know if $!)& is a bad word.

Abba: Ugh. Yes, it's a bad word. Can we go on?

[And so on]

(Just for the record, he was not asking about the most offending words.)

To be continued . . .

My Grandfather Spins In His Grave

(I wrote this post about my grandfather a while ago and wasn't planning to post it. But I was thinking about him again after having seen a recent sefer that included a tribute to his influence on the author. I thought it was pretty nice and considered decloaking to post it, but I'll pass.)

Various considerations arose as we debated whether or not to take David out of day school. Mostly the considerations were practical, but there was also an emotional dimension. Both of our families had struggled to send us to day school and were we now returning the favor by stabbing them in the back? Or worse yet, the heart?

From my side there was an additional element. My grandfather was a big advocate of a day school education even in the interwar period, when the concept of day school was as foreign to the vast majority of American Jews as Mars. He actively volunteered in a local day school (until he had a falling out with the principal?) and he later combined his dedication to day school with his passion for athletics by helping to found the yeshivah basketball league. (He raised money for YU as well.)

He also put his money where his mouth was. His oldest daughter graduated from an elementary day school and his next daughter and my father continued through yeshivah high schools as well. (The idea of sending girls to day school was particularly unusual then.)

So as we considered changing educational paths, I thought of my grandfather, whose yahrzeit had just been observed a few days earlier. I imagined him turning over in his grave at the prospect of a grandson--and one named for him, no less--attending public school.

The truth is my grandfather was an extremely practical person. He was very tachlis oriented. I'm sure that if I enumerated to him our grievances he would sigh and nod his head in agreement. I could even imagine that after we'd part he'd pick up the phone and give the principal a piece of his mind. (I actually remember him once calling up the director of a day camp I attended and telling him he didn't know the first thing about how to run a camp.)

But public school? He definitely wouldn't be happy, to say the least.

My Sister's Keeper

When Kinneret was pregnant with David I spoke to a doctor friend of mine about whether or not we should bank his cord blood. He didn't think it was worth it and he added that if we were ever to need cord blood it would be cheaper to have another baby. In the end we decided to bank his cord blood after speaking with another doctor acquaintance (Summy's brother-in-law), although we didn't do it again for Ora.
I recently watched "My Sister's Keeper," a movie that revolves around a family that pursued my first friend's strategy. The daughter is diagnosed with leukemia and after no bone marrow donor can be found her parents decide to have another baby engineered to be a genetic match to the leukemic daughter. The second daughter is born and she ends up serving as a donor on multiple occasions, sometimes suffering severe adverse reactions. When the older daughter goes into kidney failure the mother insists that the younger daughter donate one of her kidneys. At this point the younger daughter says that she's had enough and she retains a lawyer to sue her parents for medical emanciption.

If you like depressing dramas, it's a great movie. But it's also a good springboard for some discussion. The subject of organ donation and halakhah recently flooded the Jblogosphere (e.g., Hirhurim), specifically the question of brain stem death. I think "My Sister's Keeper" would have provided an interesting tangential debate, i.e., may one coerce a minor child to serve as a donor. Even if there isn't actual coercion, do parents even have the right to ask a minor child to serve as a donor?

Pesach Rants: The Seder

If the seder is supposed to be to educate the kids, why does it start so late? What is the purpose if the kids are already dozing off right after mah nishtanah? There is an interesting discussion here about starting the seder early, but even assuming the established practice to wait until nighfall, who in the hell invited the chazan to daven maariv and shlep out the hallel? Isn't it late enough already? (And someone please remind me why we need to recite hallel twice at night?)

And if the seder is supposed to be to educate the kids, why do we sit around rambling in a language the kids (to say nothing of the adults at many tables) don't understand?

I have no authority over the shul's schedule and shaliach tzibbur roster, but I can control what goes on at my own table. So this year we did some parts in English.

And it went something like this:

Abba: At first our forefathers were idolaters . . .

David: Why does it say four fathers?

Abba: Forefathers means ancestors.

David: But why four fathers?

Abba: I just told you. Forefathers means ancestors. Now let me continue.

David: But there were only three fathers?

Abba: Huh? I said forefathers.

David: But there were only three fathers.

Abba: What are you talking about?

Finally Kineret had to point out to me that he was confused because he thought I was talking about the avos.

(And now I realize that he was probably further confused because I keep asking him who the 4 imos were--he keeps on including Dina--and here I was talking about "four fathers.")

Balabustas, Pesach and Christina Aguilera

This is time of the year when balabustas world wide sing songs of lament. Now in my humble opinion that's just the wrong attitude. Instead they should be singing Christina Aguilera's "Fighter" (a la "whatever doesn't kill you makes you stronger").

Ok, just kidding. Ok, just kidding. But I hadn't heard this song in a while and it's been in my head all day since having heard it this morning.

David's Daily Journal

David came home with a stack of his daily personal journal assignments. It was an interesting read. Some days were revealing about his perspective on things; other days were simply amusing. Overall it was a gratifying (and somewhat surprising) experience to see him write so expressively. But is also served us with an important warning, i.e., there are no house secrets when you pair a first-grader with a personal journal assignment.

Conflict vs. Unity

"The clash of opinions honestly thought out is far better than a unanimity obtained by the enforced or voluntary suppression of the reasoning faculty."

-Sir Leon Simon, The Elements of Zionism (London: Association of Young Zionists, 1934), p. 5.

Of Metaphors and Anthropomorphisms

Sometimes I'm concerned that David may not be absorbing everything that he is taught in school.

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While reading through the Haggadah last night with David we reached the lines that speak of God taking the Jews out of Egypt with a strong arm, an outstretched arm, etc. Then this morning we paused after Yigdal for a line of be'ur tefillah and I focused on ein lo demus ha-guf ve-eino guf, i.e., the principle of God's incorporeality. We translated the line and then I started to explain that even though we read last night about God's hand, it doesn't mean He really has a hand. Instead of the expected confusion I was greeted with a smile and, "Abba, it's a metaphor."

I guess things do sink in after all in school.