Report from the front lines: another day in gan

I had the pleasure of spending another day with those cute little boys (in the picture to the right) in gan this past Sunday. And now I feel obliged to give you a quick update on what is new in their lives. Before I do so may I just say that everyone who feels that they are losing sight of the big picture should spend a day with people like them. And second, the greatest thing I can wish you all, as we approach Purim, is the clarity of their worldview.

Since they all go by nicknames -- and not their real names -- I am going to use their individual handles!!

• Zundel had his haircut -- he no longer has the long blond curls that he had a few months ago. He looks very mature and could easily pass for three and a half!!!
• Dundun is speaking English like a regular two-year-old -- which is impressive since it is his third language. Also, he seems to have forgotten his obsession with French children's folk songs.
• Shruli appears to be in the midst of a small personal rebellion -- yes, he was kicking the underside of the lunch table and if you go to gan you know that there is no kicking the table while chewing! I don't know why, but there isn't and that's the end of the subject.
• Rafi is walking -- and the adults in his life are breathing a sigh of relief because, God love him, is he a very significant little man and carrying him around requires great physical strength and a very good back.
• Shua is back from vacation -- and spent the first hour after meeting me eyeing me suspiciously before determining that since all his friends were bringing me boardbooks to read, I must be okay. He then proceeded to talk my ear off for the next three hours. 

And now, in the spirit of the upcoming holiday, I am going to paraphrase the version of the Purim story that they are learning. No wonder so many of us Jewish kids get to a certain age and realize that the religion we thought we were part of was actually Disney Judaism and in fact, the real deal is a lot harder to digest.

Here we go. The Gan version of Purim:

There was a city called Shushan. It had a castle. The king -- Achashverosh --lived in the castle with the queen -- Vashti. The king was a very silly king and he liked to have lots of parties. One day the king decided to have a party and he asked the queen to come to the party and dance. She said no.  He was a silly silly king. He made Vashti go away, but then he was sad. Then a nice man named Mordechai told the king, "don't be sad, I will find you a new wife." Mordechai brought the king, Esther, and then he wasn't sad. But there was also a very bad man. His name was Haman. He was very, very bad to the Jewish people. Mordechai told Esther that she had to get rid of Haman so Esther went to the king and told him that Haman was a very very bad man. The king got rid of Haman and then the Achashverosh, Esther and Mordechai -- and the Jewish people -- lived happily ever after.

If you have any issues with this version of the story you can take them up with the teacher, Bracha. But, really, why would you? Happy Purim to all. May we always vanquish our enemies so easily.

Four toddlers and two ganenot

I don't want to hear a word of complaint from anyone this Shabbat about how difficult their week was. My boiler plate response will be swift and emotionless: Boo hoo for you. I just spent the week filling in for my friend Bracha at her English-speaking gan (nursery school) under the watchful eye of her partner Judy.

Bracha and her family just sashayed off to New York and Disneyland two weeks ago. Every time I checked up on her on Facebook, I found another picture of her and her family having fun with yet another group of old friends living somewhere along the Eastern Seaboard -- people who kept writing things like "she is having so much fun I don't think she is ever going home." Yeah, over my dead body.

My new friends Dundun, Rafi, Shruli, and Zundel, (yes, they all have real names but no one in gan uses them) are so cute you could just scream. You really have to be two-ish to break into song, dance or tears with a split second's notice. And you have to be that age to think that a missing puzzle piece is worthy of a truly heartfelt "oy, oy, oy".

Of course spending your days with such a crew requires various skills I do not use on a day-to-day basis:

• the ability to smell l'eau du poo poo from seven feet away
• the ability to remember the words to songs you haven't sung since your own childhood -- in my case, that included Alouette, Gentille Alouette and Frere Jacques, because while it is an English speaking nursery school, two of the children are native French speakers
• the ability to interpret garbled English (ie: "Doodi" is not No. 2, but rather "Judy" as spoken by a toddler) and baby Hebrew (that was actually quite easy since it sounds like my Hebrew)

And it isn't just a matter of digging into your ancient skills' bag, it's also about having the requisite energy to keep up with the clientele. There's not a lot of sitting around in this sort of job. And asking for a quiet moment is completely out of the question.

Here's a run down on my week's activities:

• I built enough giant Lego towers (which were promptly torn down) to fill an entire new city
• I read the Wiggles "Red Car", "Sesame Street at the Zoo", Susan Boyton's "Dogs" so many times that I lost count somewhere after 1000 readings
• I know what happened to Grover's marbles and Zoe's ball
• I wiped at least 100 noses
• I set up for snack and cleaned up afterwards five times
• And did the same for lunch
• I answered the question "ma zeh" (what's that) when the little guy really meant "mi  at" (who are you) at least 100 times
• I said "bye, bye, see you later" to pretend exiters 100s of times
• I searched for the same missing "eggies"  and cupcakes at least 10 times
• I found the missing eggies and cupcakes (and a missing red plastic telephone) each time they went missing

You know I could keep going but I will spare you the rest of the list.

So what did I learn? You know there had to be a lesson in all of this.

I learned that you have to be one wrung on the ladder higher than a saint to spend your days with little kids. This is not a job for the feint of heart.