My wife and kids went to Israel last year and had a great time at a family event. They toured different places and, of course, went to Jerusalem and the Old City.
My kids, then ages nine and six, purchased a few souvenirs, the prize possession in their archive was a fake pewter bell with a menorah on it.
|I consider myself lucky -- they could have come home with commemorative spoons complete with rack.|
“Daddy in the morning you can ring the bell and we’ll wake up.”
I laughed, as I actually have to wake the kids up weekday mornings.
My wife gave me the look that meant this was pure distilled childhood innocence. Embrace the bell, or go torture small animals or whatever it is people like you do anyway.
“Fine, I’ll ring the bell when it’s time to come down.”
So often as parents we find ourselves doing
ridiculous things again and again because that’s the habit we, as a family, have
created. I rang that stupid bell for months hoping beyond hope that the kids
would actually hear it and get out of bed.
“We heard it Daddy!”
“But you didn’t get out of bed?”
I have the annoying habit/ great fortune of being cheerful in the morning and try to bring good spirits to getting the kids up and going. Basically nothing works except lots of yelling. Every now and then one of the kids rings the bell and looks at me like I was the butt of an elaborate joke – touché!