The ring for my friend’s phone is programmed to that little fairy bell when I call. You know that sound Elizabeth Montgomery makes when she wiggles her nose to cast a spell? But just as Kryptonite has a detrimental effect on Superman’s powers, so does debt stress on mine and my twinkle is not full on these days.
On the morning of Easter, Hootie-Hoo woke up early and burst into our room, his eyes wide open, Mommy, the Easter Bunny did come after all, and my heart grew for Baddy who can be quite a lame-o when it comes to the fictitious characters designed to increase revenue for large department stores over commercialized holidays. He must have gotten up late after all and put together an Easter Egg hunt. “He pooped out a package of Marshmallow Peeps on the kitchen counter,” Hootie-Hoo added, and my heart deflated.
As the lame fricking Easter Bunny lay snoring in our bed, I went downstairs to go online and see if I could redeem him by finding an Easter Egg hunt somewhere around town that he could take Hootie-Hoo to. I was met with video after video on Facebook of proud parents posting the flushed excitement of their children as they searched for meticulously place eggs to plop into beautifully prepared baskets.
Granted, Baddy had mentioned Easter to me the day before but I was tapped out in the struggle to stay afloat and informed him that “Jews don’t do Easter,” not very well anyway, and that this year it was all up to him, but then I must have steered him off course by mentioning that I didn’t think the kids needed to get hyped up on sugar. That night, I dug out a box of Peeps I had bought during a weak moment and lay them on the counter, forgetting to wake up Baddy to get a hopping with his plan, if he indeed had a plan.
Truth is, we have both been slacking. Over Passover Thumper stayed home sick and we watched the movie Whale Rider together. At least I watched while Thumper dove his nose into his keypad and typed his name for some Facebook test, which I will try here just for shits and giggles.u8pp9qanj, ok, your turn. Now, try it with your elbow…and now with your eyes closed…Ok, fun’s over.
I swallowed the lump in my throat as I watched the story about a little girl spiritually connected to her heritage. When the movie was over I began to cook, and cook and cook, making Matzoh Ball Soup, Brisket, apple cake and toffee Matzoh candy. Thumper feeling my frenetic energy asked why it was that Jews felt better after cooking, and he received an earful about Judaism.
We’re failing miserably, Baddy and I, on instilling the magic of tradition while the kids are still at that innocent age, and it doesn’t stop at Passover or Easter. The tooth fairy is also unreliable, forgetting to deliver the goods under the pillow for our sweet little boy whose teeth are falling out of his mouth like melting icicles dislodging from an overhang.
The last gift left under his pillow was a velvet bag with “London” stamped on it. It was filled with multi-colored tumbled rock. In that case it was easy for him to understand how one can be delayed due to weather and all, especially small fairies when the gift is coming all the way from London. This time he just laughed and shook his head and said, she must have forgotten me…again!
It’s tough for kids to have to acknowledge that magical creatures can be as lame as parents sometimes.