Today is the last day I can get anything done; no more “I’ll do this later”, it has to be now. Never a great way to start the day; I like to do things on my own schedule. Yesterday we took the couch apart and found a toy that my son Mendel ‘borrowed’ from his friend Jack four months ago, and then immediately lost. At least Jack will have a nice Passover surprise. He can ask the four questions wearing his favorite rubber ducky beak.
So what’s left? Walking around like a chicken with my head cut off, that’s what. My son is assisting me with that by taking a crayon and drawing on his table, the wall, and around the fireplace. That’s okay; crayon isn’t Chametz, and I refuse to be too distracted by it. I’m sure there’s a magic eraser somewhere in the house.
Just as I am walking back and forth, trying to get the last details sorted out, I find this on my email:
“The biblical slavery of Egypt represents bondage to your own self.
Every day, every moment, must be an exodus from the self.
If you’re not leaving Egypt, you’re already back there”.
Sounds great. I could certainly use an “exodus from the self”, believe me. Although I have the feeling they don’t exactly mean it like that. Still, there are many ways to explain the concept of “self”, who’s to say how we give our life meaning beyond the immediate on any given day?
I think one good lesson, during this Passover, might be to focus on how my children are responding to all this. The Passover story is a difficult one, full of hidden trapdoors and dark passageways. To three-year-old Mendel, it is still a holiday mostly defined by the frog hand puppet he received at his pre-school. It’s not a holiday unless you have special toys. For the past few days, I have been painstakingly explaining the concept of Chametz to him. Sometimes, it seems he almost gets it, but it’s hard during the halfway stage. Most of the house is done, but there’s a few last things left; we can still eat Chametz until tomorrow night, but not in the areas where I already cleaned. Try to explain that to a three-year-old; he listens to me intently, then he says: “I want crackers.”
Okay, fine, but not in the living room. Naturally, that’s exactly where he wants to eat them; no surprise there. I say “no” as firmly as I dare (we don’t want to make this whole deal too punitive) and he agrees to sit in the kitchen with his crackers. But not for long, two minutes later, he gets up and walks into the living room. I send him back to the kitchen where he subsequently dumps them on the floor. Fine, I still need to clean the floor anyway. He wants new crackers, and I give in; we need to get rid of them anyway. Again, he tries to carry them into the living room, again, I send him back to the kitchen. Now he’s tired of it, and leaves them on the counter. “I’ll have juice instead,” he says, and I sigh with relief. Juice, he can drink in the living room. Then he says: “I want cereal.”
I know it’s not nice to ignore your own child, but sometimes they leave you no choice.
Happy Passover, everyone.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_3Xiy5aK3AU&feature=related
