That's Life: Plunging for pencils; are they all yours?; more 6-05-09

Issue of June 5, 2009 / 13 Sivan 5769

Dear That’s Life,

Every Friday night, my husband and I have the custom to bless our two children with the traditional berachot parents recite upon their children. Usually my son Dovid, who is almost three years old, gets his bracha and then we bless my daughter Shalhevet, who is six months old. This particular week, Dovid asked if he could have a turn to bless Shalhevet.

“Sure,” I said, amused at his burgeoning interest in his younger sibling. Dovid proceeded to put his hands on top of her head and recite: “Baruch Atah Hashem...Al Sefirat HaOmer!”

Laughing, my husband and I quickly realized that Dovid really had been paying attention each night when we counted the Omer. We couldn’t be prouder!

Jessica Koenigsberg

Kew Gardens Hills

Dear That’s Life,

As I bent over the relatively new $800 Toto toilet we had purchased, I had to agree with my wife that it was making a strange gurgling sound when flushed. I reluctantly went to work with the plunger, but to no avail. After several futile tries, I broke down and called our plumber.

When he arrived, he tried to snake the toilet but could not get the thing to flush either. “Timmy,” I said, “I thought this isn’t supposed to happen with these expensive toilets –– you promised.” “Something is stuck inside,” he said. “I’m sure of it.”

I told him that this was impossible –– we don’t keep anything near the top of the toilet and there are no shelves behind it. Plus, my kids are too old to be dumping things inside. “I’ll tell you what,” he said. “I’ll take the toilet outside, break it open and if something’s inside, you pay for the replacement. If not, it’s on me.”

I jumped at his offer and watched as he removed the unit and proceeded to crack it open on my front lawn. Sure enough, he reached in and pulled out what appeared to be an intact pencil. “There’s your culprit,” he said smugly. In disgust I went inside and confronted the kids. “How did this pencil get into the toilet?” Without missing a beat, my 8 year old daughter, Abby, looked at me and said, “Maybe it’s a number 2!”

Ozi Glass

Woodmere

Dear That’s Life,

After mincha at the Island Avenue shul in Woodmere on the first day of Shavuos, Josh Aaron and I stood outside catching up, each accompanied by our oldest son, two boys who had attended the same summer camp.

“You know,” said Josh suddenly, “I think we have a pair of tzitzis floating around the house with your son’s name on them.” I started to reply that that was OK — we still have a cartoon character kippah the Aarons left in our living room years ago — but his son, Jonny, interrupted to say, “Actually, I think I’m wearing them right now.” He fished around in his shirt, opening several buttons in the process, and displayed a fringed garment that, sure enough, had ‘Dovid Fertig’ neatly printed on the corner in permanent marker.

After we told Jonny he could get dressed again, I reminded Josh about the kippah. Perhaps one dark night we can meet in the middle of a bridge somewhere and make an exchange.

Mayer Fertig

Dear That’s Life,

I have never been blessed so many times in my life.

Being out of town, surrounded mostly by non-Jews unaccustomed to large families, we received many strange looks and ogling eyes as my family and I walked around.

“Are they all yours?” my husband and I were asked more than once, as the number of kids was counted and my growing belly taken into account. “Yes,” we said, just waiting for the next comment to come along. “Well, G-d bless you,” we heard over and over again, said not with warm hearts but rather with looks of, ‘Are you guys nuts?!’ or ‘Do you not know how to count?!’

You’d think we were a small tribe, walking around with a stick or matching neon shirts so that the pack could all stay together. Hardly, I thought. Sure we are a nice-sized growing family –– but a litter? Not at all. Truth is, compared to all the families with their two blond haired children, one boy and one girl, we did look like a reality TV show in the making. One couple could not stop laughing when they noticed I had written my cell number on each of my children’s legs. “Am I lost?” it said. “Please call 516-...” This, they thought, was the funniest thing in the world. I figured the fascination with my kids would end when we arrived back in New York, but it did not.

Standing on line at the JFK taxi stand, I could not help but notice people around me taking a head count of our family. One man, who clearly did not notice that I was watching him, elbowed his wife/girlfriend and motioned in our direction, hoping she’d see what he was seeing. The woman ahead of me, turned around a couple of times, as if to make sure she had counted right. Finally, she spoke.

“That’s some large group you’ve got there,” she said. “Yes,” I said, “thank G-d.” Not sure she agreed, she shrugged her shoulders and replied, “Well, I guess that’s one way to look at it,” and off she went to her waiting cab.

‘That’s the only way we think of it,’ I thought, and I smiled as I shuffled my crew to the waiting taxis ahead.

MLW