Winter

Baby Smile

Kevin!

A month or two ago, Roan made his first joke that was actually funny.**

He's been watching a Thomas show called "Hiro of the Rails" and there are two minor train characters, Victor the mechanic and his clumsy assistant Kevin. Kevin is always dropping some heavy metal object and making a lot of noise. And every time he does Victor yells, "Kevin!"

One night after dinner Jay was washing dishes and broke a glass in the sink. Roan yelled, "Kevin!" It took Jay and I a second to make the connection, but when we did we couldn't stop laughing. Our son had a good sense of humor!

The next day I dropped a piece of pizza, which landed face down on the floor with a splat. "Kevin!" screamed Roan. I couldn't help but laugh too. Roan (accidentally) knocked over his water bottle. "Kevin!" he yelled, giggling. I picked it up, happy to have such a funny son.

Time passed. The "Kevin!" joke flourished.

I opened the cupboard and a can of beans fell out. Jay tripped over one of Roan's train tracks. "Kevin!" we'd hear, from across the room.

It was getting less funny.

I pulled a book off the shelf and a dozen others tumbled to the floor. "Kevin!" The trash bag split while Jay was taking it out. "Kevin!"

Was our 3-year-old making fun of us?

Eventually the "Kevin!" phase wound down, and now Roan shouts it infrequently enough for us to no longer take it so personally. It's funny again. And we will always remember it as Roan's first successful joke.

The little comedian

**Wait, I take that back, the whole Aunty Nub thing was pretty funny, and is still going strong.

Brothers

Sleeping In

Jew Tree

It all started when Jay asked if I'd like to get a Christmas tree this year. We usually spend Christmas with my family in California, but with Fred due on the 27th we were stuck in New York. I felt lonely already, and the trees smelled so good that despite my laziness and total lack of Christmas spirit, I said yes, I wanted one.

Jay seemed surprised by my answer. He started backpedaling.

Jay: If you really want one, we can get something small. But no Baby Jesus.

Me: (laughing) Who puts Baby Jesus on a tree?

Jay: I grew up in Texas. I've seen them.

Me: You've spent Christmas with my family how many times? Have you ever seen a Baby Jesus on our tree?

Jay thought this over, and realized that he hadn't been as vigilante as he should've. I saw it in his face - he couldn't recall any specific Baby Jesuses, but that doesn't mean they weren't there, hidden from plain site. Maybe he thought of those naked chubby angel ornaments that we hang on the tree...could they be Baby Jesuses in disguise?

The conversation went on and on, and I finally realized that this was no joke, my husband felt threatened by the idea of a Christmas tree in our home. My desire to stop arguing about Baby Jesuses finally outweighed my desire for a Christmas tree. I said forget it, no tree.

But I couldn't forget it. Days passed, and Christmas trees were everywhere. They smelled amazing. Having that smell in our home, that familiarity, I thought it would help me miss my family a little bit less. I was insanely pregnant and hormonal. Why couldn't Jay just suck it up?

I started thinking about what a wonderful and tolerant wife I am, sending our son to Chabad preschool where he is taught by women who wear wigs to pray before eating his snack, and we are constantly badgered to donate money for a community Mikvah. And my husband can't deal with a freaking tree?!

Which is how we ended up buying a 7 foot Christmas tree. As soon as it was secured in the stand, we topped it with a very large wooden Star of David. Why we own such a large Star of David is a whole different story, and after I mounted it I felt Jay relax a bit. Though he did shoot me a very dirty look when Roan starting talking excitedly about decorating the "Tis-Mis Tee."

Me: "What are we supposed to call it?"

Jay just shook his head.

Over the past few weeks I think Jay has warmed up to it. We decorated it with lights, strung popcorn and painted painted pasta chains, and even converted some of Roan's trains and cars into ornaments.





At night Jay turns on the lights and we sit on the couch and admire it. Well, I admire it while Jay watches TV.

There must have been some kind of Christmas slippery slope at work, because a week or two after the tree, Jay suggested we take Ro by our local coffee shop to meet Santa. Here he is, one of the only kids who consented to go anywhere near Santa (aka Josh from Southside, a good Jewish boy who wore a kippah underneath his Santa hat). We had to explain how the whole Santa thing worked, and Roan caught on quickly. He told Santa several times that he wanted trains and tracks.

For balance, here's our bicycle menorah on the last night of Channukah, full of candles:



Happy Holidays and Happy New Year!