Oh those gurgling emotions. If it’s not one kid, it’s the other, right?
This time Sebastian.
One day at pick-up last week, while walking out of school, Sebastian suddenly proclaimed “my pictures!” “Ok, run back in and get them!” I rejoined immediately. Moments later, he emerged with a stack of papers. He showed me, full of excitement and awe, lifelike illustrations of the flowers, the bird, and the horse that were clearly not his handiwork. “Ida drew this for me! And Rona drew this flower.” “How nice,” I replied, with some affectation.
I finally arrived at the last drawing of the stack and held it admiringly, marveling the colors, the texture, the fanciful streak of the imagination. This was clearly the artistic creation of a 4 year old. “Did you do this?” I turned to Sebastian, expectantly. “Yes, but this is just a kishkush (scribble). My heart slumped.
A couple days ago, while sitting in the waiting room of the doctor’s office and talking about his day at school, Sebastian confided to me that Daniel Michalik, ostensibly the class toughie, hit him. I pressed to find out where he hit him. “Did he touch you?” “Where did he touch you?” After a moment, he replied plainly: “Um, in his heart”. And I felt a pinch in mine, thinking of how beautiful his reply was. And how sad. My heart sprawled in the painful realization that I can’t protect my children from life’s adverse pieces.
But then yesterday evening, while walking home after a small, informal, and artistic family Shabbat service at Beit Daniel, Tel Aviv’s reform synagogue, with Sebastian’s “good words” envelope dangling around his neck, he exclaimed: “Ima, I want to stay in Israel a lot a lot a lot a lot of days, because I like this synagogue.” My heart soared.
And today was a beach day. Creation, love, and joy prevail.