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.
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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 retarded
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?”
“No!”
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!
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