Oh, blog. You poor, sad, untouched thing. All the happiness (and otherwise!) of the happy blue house which you will never know about, weeks and weeks of it. That, and the Pesach cleaning. A few nuggets, maybe, I can throw at you, and then it's dinnertime with Daddy.
Mom: ummmmmm......
Naomi (explaining): 'Cause he's not as serious?
More Naomi, speaking of daily life in her pre-K class:
In circle time, before we daven, we always say "How are you?" to each other. And I always say "tired"... (thinking)... I say, 'Tired, Baruch Hashem!'"
This is why, with apologies to certain grumpy rabbinical types, I think I have my kids in the Chabad school. Because it cracks me up to hear them say this, and Toy-rah, and Koy-desh, and mezoynoys.... the leavened kind! Yum!
Ezra (looking at microwave): For some reason, it's 8:23.
And since, for some reason, it's 8:36, I gotta go eat.
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