Saturday, November 29, 2014 Kislev 7, 5775

I know that the my son's most recent finger-snappin', thigh-slappin', mom aggravatin' phase will eventually end, just like all its noisy but otherwise innocuous predecessors. But these habits do not bring out the best side of me. 

When I hear my boys speaking Hebrew or doing their assignments without being asked, it's like the sun is rising inside me. But I'm hiding my excitement just in case that might drive them away from continuing to enjoy the language that I had to force them to learn in the first place.

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As I watched my sons collect loads of sweets from what amounted to an elaborate Halloween block party, I couldn't help but wonder if something was lost in mustering up the courage to ring a stranger's doorbell to hustle for candy.

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Lately, our oldest son has been doing everything in his power to sabotage what is left of our rapidly shrinking evening grownup time by coming downstairs to interrupt our catch-up talks and R-rated television. 

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Musings of a Modern Balabusta

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