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Wow, Obama! Your Revenge is Stunning!

Seriously, Mr. President?  Grow up.  You’re acting like an elementary school kid.  I should know, I’ve taught them.  What was your point in letting the world’s worst-kept secret out of the bag?

Israel is not a nuclear power.  We have no nuclear reactors, no nuclear bombs.  We never always have.  What’s your point?

I mean, of course we don’t have a reactor.  Well, duh.  Why would we?

Why would we?  Because, if you will recall, we are the only democratic, free, state in the entire area.  We are surrounded by hostile nations, and we need to keep them in fear of us, for survival’s sake.  That’s something that you seem to like to forget, with your two-state solution garbage and refusal to let us kill terrorist murderers.

Yay, so you proved that Israel does have nukes.  Wowee.  We are all impressed, Mr. Obama Bin Laden (or, as Grunt likes to call you, OBozo).

Obama, I believe that you are worse than McCain, by far.  I would’ve loved McCain for president, and I voted for him, despite Palin.  I believed that you were better than Romney, though I didn’t get to vote in those elections.  But now, I’m not sure.  Because however bad Romney may be, he’s not a ten-year-old out to get revenge on Netanyahu, and all of Israel, simply because we didn’t vote the way he wanted.  Boo-hoo, Obama.  A democratic state didn’t vote the way you wanted.  Would you be taking revenge on Romney if he had won the elections?  Would you be taking revenge on America?

Get over it.  And leave Israel alone.  It’s enough that you tried to interfere with our democratic elections.  We beat you, because we don’t believe, justly, that the “Palestinians” want a two-state solution.  If they did, we would sign a deal with them.  They don’t.  All they want is to push us into the sea.  In their words, not mine.

Now, please explain: What was your point in declassifying only the section on Israel, in this report from 1987?

By the way: We have a Fisher-Price plane that comes with a luggage thing, a skateboard, and two people: a white kid with a helmet, and a black captain.  The luggage thing is used as a podium.  The black captain stands on the podium, and Shlomo says, “I’m Obama-rama making a speech.  Pchhh,” and pops “Obama” off the podium.  He learned this from us, with our warped sense of political humor, obviously.  I think I started doing it because I was frustrated with his kvetching and wanted to distract him.  But right now, I feel like it’s really appropriate.  Obama-rama, stop making speeches; get off the podium and stop trying to run Israel.  You’re president of America.  Not prime minister of Israel.

But I promise, if anyone pushes you off the podium, we will make sure that they go sit in the corner.  Pushing isn’t okay, and it counts as violence.  We just ask you to step down, of your own accord.

Geography Lessons

When Shlomo was a baby we would use a bulb to suck gunk out of his nose.  He hated it, of course.  We would also pick his nose; he hated that, too.

Since pulling snot out of a nose is also called ‘digging for gold’, we started saying that we have to pull gold out of his nose.  Then it became pulling gold out of his nose because we needed to donate it.  To whom would we donate it?  To the hungry children in Africa, so that they could buy food.

When he cried, we would say, “The hungry children in Africa need your donation.”

Then, a few months ago, Shlomo’s car (a Cozy Coupe) broke a rule (or perhaps Shlomo broke a rule while/by using the car), and Yitzchak took the car to China.  A few days later, I asked Shlomo if he wanted car to go back in China, or if he was going to listen.

Yitzchak got mad, “Don’t say things you can’t do.”

I said, “You did the same thing a few days ago.  It’s going to go to the same China you put it into.”

Yesterday, car needed to go to China.  But as Yitzchak pointed out, China is now filled with poopy clothes (one item is a pair of Shlomo’s poopy underwear; the rest is the baby’s (I’ll find her a name to use on the blog soon)).  So, car went in China Room, and is now blocking the door and access to the washer.

China, which was originally on top of our washing machine (we have a front loader, like most Israelis), has now expanded to include the tops of the fridge and bookshelves.

A toy that breaks the rules goes to China.  Shlomo, therefore, does not want things to go to China.  People, however, cannot go to China.  I guess it’s just too expensive a plane ticket . . .

“Shoshanim Ward”

I mentioned that the lights in his room, which he calls “shoshanim” are a story for another post, and here it is.

[At first he called them “shalshulim”, and sometimes “shilshulim” (the Hebrew word for diahrrea).  Ugh.  Then we realized he meant “shoshanim”, which is a type of flower.  Apparently, because the lights look like a flower.  And now he calls them “shoshanim”.]

lights, office lights, ceiling lights

The “shoshanim” in his room.

At any rate, these lights have been a source of fear for Shlomo.  He has the ones in his room, and our room also has them – but obviously, the ones in your parents’ room are much less scary than those in your own.  Plus, it’s an excuse to sleep in a parent’s bed – definitely better than your own bed.

We suffered from this fear for a while.  Leaving the light on in the next room didn’t help too much.  Letting him fall asleep in one of our beds (we have two twins, and I don’t mind discussing why, but it’s a different post – if you want, just ask) is not a good solution.  Sitting with him until he falls asleep – ditto.  Fighting every night – ugh.  “Punishing” the shoshanim – not working and not a nice solution in any case.  The shoshanim didn’t do anything wrong.  And we don’t punish unnecessarily.  Plus, we don’t punish in a way that someone gets a kick out of.

Well, Yitzchak’s mother, aka “Mom” came for a visit (yet another post) and she brought with her a few packages of glow sticks.  I think she brought a total of three, each containing a glow stick, two thingies to connect it to a string, and a string.  Shlomo thought these glow sticks were super cool, which they are.  Yitzchak explained that we have to be careful, because the inner tube is glass and there are nasty chemicals in the sticks.

And then – brilliance.  I’m telling you, Yitzchak is briliant.

He told Shlomo that the sticks punish the shoshaniim automatically, when you tap the stick lightly.  The sticks are a shoshanim ward and make sure that the shoshanim can’t hurt anyone.

Bingo.

Yitzchak hung the glow-stick-turned-shoshanim-ward from the mezuza, and reminded Shlomo that it protects him.  Shlomo walked around a bit with the stick hanging from his neck, because it was cool.  Now, whenever he deems it necessary, he passes by his doorway, taps the stick, and says the shoshanim won’t hurt him.

glow stick, mezuza, hangers, kids room,

The glow stick hanging from the mezuza in Shlomo’s doorway.

The last time I heard about the subject was a few days ago.  The time before – a few days prior to that, when he was explaining to Ducky that he’ll protect him and the shoshanim won’t hurt him [and that Ducky should dry].

A few days ago, one of the bulbs, which we thought was burned out, started working.  Turns out, it hadn’t been screwed in all the way.  Shlomo was very interested in the fact that it started working, and made sure that we all knew that the “second shoshanim” was working (you mean, the third?).  Not a word about his old fear.

Such a simple item; such a brilliant solution.

As Yitzchak says, “An imaginary solution for an imaginary problem works perfectly.”  Yes, but that doesn’t mean that the solution isn’t hilarious.  And that watching it work doesn’t make me laugh.

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I wrote this post a few weeks ago.  Just now, while I was reviewing it (and happened to mention the word), Shlomo informed me that the shoshanim did not have a good Rosh Hashana (New Year), so they can’t hurt him anymore.  I guess G-d didn’t judge them favorably; hopefully He judged us much better.

Umbrella

Post from July 1, 2013:

Is it pronounced um’-brella, or um-brella’?umbrella, rain, red and yellow umbrella, picture of umbrella

Help us resolve this disagreement!

(Yitzchak says that it depends on the word’s use in a sentence: “I have a green um-brella’.”  vs. “I borrowed an um’-brella from the guard.” (Umbrella is the key word in the sentence.)  However, I have not really heard him differentiate between these two in pronunciation, except for right now, when he is trying to prove a point.)

Shlomo loves umbrellas.  I can just imagine his reaction if and when he sees this post . . .

Flying Cake

On Shabbat morning, Shlomo gets cake for breakfast (long story).  Obviously, I don’t make the cake just for him.  But it’s usually the only cake we make each week.

This week Yitzchak bought me a present – ingredients for cheesecake.  I made a cheesecake Thursday night and a chocolate cake on Friday afternoon.  The cheesecake, obviously, was almost gone by the time Shabbat morning came along.  But we saved a bit for Shlomo.

Except . . .

When Yitzchak gave Shlomo a piece of chocolate cake and a piece of cheesecake last Shabbat morning, Shlomo picked up the cheesecake, said, “Cold,” and refused to touch it.  Yitzchak said that if he doesn’t eat it, Ima will be very happy to.  Well, Shlomo didn’t want it, and that was final.

So YItzchak cut the cheesecake into bite-size pieces, speared one with a fork and brought it to me, while I was still in bed.  Yummy.  Then he did the same with bite-size pieces 2 and 3.  And then . . .

Shlomo decided that flyiing cake into Ima’s mouth (he could see it from his seat at the table, because the bedroom door was open) sounded like a lot of fun.  So I got about five or six pieces of chocolate cake flown into my mouth, except that these weren’t cut into bite-size pieces and I more than once found my mouth overstuffed.  One of the times, Shlomo had to wait [im]patiently by the bed, because I just hadn’t finished chewing.

And then finally, after I asked for no more cake (please!) Yitzchak put the cake on top of the fridge, and the game of flying oversized pieces of cake into my mouth ended, much to Shlomo’s dismay.

It certainly was cute while it lasted, but my mouth was too tired and I had eaten more pieces of chocolate cake in one sitting (laying?) than I had wanted.

Gaza and Their Dam Lies

gaza, dams, gaza dams, palestinian authority, palestinian lies, jews help, israel, israel saves gazans, jews love others

This post by A Soldier’s Mother was just too funny to resist.

I do have a few funny posts in the making, honestly I do.  Funny parenting posts, not funny political posts.  But this one is just funny.

She starts her post –

I keep thinking that someone will look at this and get a real laugh. Oh, not for the tragedy of three people dying and 5,000 being evacuated…but about blaming Israel for the worst storm of the century and saying we opened the dams.
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We didn’t. We really didn’t. And we didn’t – because the damn dams, damn well don’t exist. That’s right…there are no dams that we dammed up…in fact, if I’m not mistake, there are no dams at all between Israel and Gaza…and, if there are any rivers that flow into Gaza, well, by the time they get anywhere near Gaza, they’re more of a tiny, tiny, tiny stream than anything that anyone would ever call a river.

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So go on, read it.

Nose-Picking

Until now, when Shlomo’s nose was stuffed, we had to get the snot out for him.  As any parent knows, there are two options for this:

1) Use a snot-sucker.

2) Use your finger.

When the child gets a bit older, a third option becomes available:

3) Put a tissue to his nose and tell him to blow.

You can probably guess that option #1 has been out of use for a while; we usually give Shlomo the option of #2 or #3 (though, if it’s dry snot, we usually use option #2).

Yesterday I noticed that Shlomo had discovered option #2a: Pick your own nose.  He had his finger in his nose (instead of in one of our noses, for a change) and then I saw snot hanging out.  Of course, being a good mother, I pulled the snot off his face.

Then he said, “Yeah?” and held out his hand.  I bent down and kissed the hand.  No, that’s not what he wanted.

“Yeah?” he said again.  He turned his hand slightly and pointed a finger, and then I saw what he was referring to – he had snot on his finger, and he wanted it off.

This scene repeated itself quite a few times today.  Shlomo picks his nose, so there’s snot on his hand.  He doesn’t like having his hands dirty, so he comes to me and asks me to take it off.

Of course, it’s not just snot – it’s anything.  Especially gooey foods like egg salad and chumus (hummus).  Today when we were eating deviled eggs, Shlomo finished his and held out his hand, saying, “Wash.”  I prefer to wash his hands once at the end of the meal, but he was insistent.  So, Yitzchak took the end of Shlomo’s bib and wiped his hands with it.  New skill: Wipe your own hands with a towel.  It’s a skill Shlomo has refused to learn until now (yes, I said refused, it’s not that he couldn’t manage, just that there’s no reason to dry wet hands), but suddenly I saw him wiping his hands very fiercely on the edge of the bib.  I guess Yitzchak didn’t do a satisfactory job.

The Wandering Pacifier

Three Thursdays ago, I took Shlomo with me to see an apartment in a different city.  By the time I got back, I had a migraine.  I met Yitzchak at the Central Bus Station, and he offered to take Shlomo back with him, to get the stroller.  (I had left the stroller with Yitzchak, so I wouldn’t have to drag it with me on the intercity bus.)

Shlomo and Yitzchak walked off, and I caught a bus home.  I had about 45 minutes of quiet, and then I heard the two of them coming back.  As soon as the door opened, Yitzchak said, “Did you give me his pacifier?”

“Yep,” I said.  “It was in his mouth.”

“Well, it’s gone now,” said Yitzchak.

Oh, well.  The clip was starting to break anyways, and the pacifier, even though it was still good, was a few weeks away from needing to be replaced.  So be it.  Pacifiers come in packages of two, so we took the second one and gave it to Shlomo.

pacifier, tree, lost pacifier, wandering pacifier, baby, toddler,

For illustrative purposes only. Courtesy of Google Images.

Fast forward a week and a half.  The phone rings.  It’s Yitzchak.

“Chana, guess what?”

“What?”

“Guess what I found?”

Nu, stop keeping me in suspense already.  “What did you find?”

“I was walking outside, talking on the phone, and suddenly I looked up, and there was Shlomo’s pacifier and clip, hanging from a tree.”

What?!?!

He brought it home.  We washed the clip and the pacifier.  The clip is in use, but we still have to sterilize the pacifier – it was kind of gross . . .