A bye-bye lullaby
Napping on Shabbat? Not if you have kids
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There is only one thing that parents love more than their kids: Napping on Shabbat.
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Last Shabbat, after a totally indulgent and satisfying lunch, we informed our sweet children that mommy and daddy are taking a nap. We made it very clear that we expect and are certain they will have no problem keeping themselves busy for a couple of hours, to play quietly and not bother their parents.
You have all you need, we told them, thousands of games and toys and candy. Do what ever you want, just don’t bother us and don’t come upstairs. Clearly there was a dire need for a Shabbat do not disturb speech but I hadn’t even finished and the kids were gone – upstairs to our room.
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Yehuda, Aviv, I said in my most authoritative parenting voice, daddy and mommy are going to sleep. We work hard all week, well, mom does anyway, and on Shabbat we need to rest. Go downstairs and play. They did go downstairs. What a pleasure to have big kids, I said to Efrat. It allows us to enjoy a nap. Yes, she said and her eyes closed, it really is a pleasure.
What’s a pleasure, Aviv asked suddenly appearing at the door to our bedroom.
Nothing is a pleasure, I told her. Why are you up here? We specifically told you not to bother us. I have nothing to play with, she whined. Yehuda is playing chess with himself and I have nothing to do. I want to be with you. Absolutely not, I erupted. Yehuda! I yelled, I am asking you to play chess with Aviv. Yehuda called Aviv to go downstairs. Efrat and I got comfy in our bed, enjoying the quiet. A nice respite, I whispered to Efrat. You too sweetheart, she responded.
Sweetheart? asked Yehuda. Who is a sweetheart?
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Yehuda, I said angrily, why have you come upstairs? We agreed that you would play chess with Aviv downstairs. I did play, he said. But she took the horse and galloped it across the board and knocked over all my pawns. She said her preschool teacher said that was how to play chess.
So play something else, I said. Why not build something with your Lego? Okay, Yehuda said, and went back downstairs. Lego, I said to Efrat again enjoying the quiet in our room, what a great game that it. Dozens of years and it has not gone out of fashion. Children are still building with it.
Out of fashion? asked Aviv. What does ‘out of fashion’ mean?
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Aviv, what are you doing upstairs? Daddy and mommy are trying to take a nap. Can’t you see that? I am tired of Lego, she explained. You are tired of Lego? I asked. How can that be? Dozens of years children have been playing with Lego and you’re tired of it. Playing with Lego, that is what kids do. Adults go to work and children play with Lego. So why are you sleeping, Aviv wanted to know. And anyway, I don’t want Lego. Okay, I surrendered, so go see what Yehuda is doing.
What who is doing, Yehuda wanted to know.
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Yehuda, is it possible to know why you have come upstairs? Don’t you understand that mommy and daddy are trying to take a nap? We have nothing to do, the kids whined in unison. Okay, I answered so play a pretend game. You are on a ship and there’s a huge storm. You get into the lifeboat and end up stranded on a deserted island. Your playroom is that island. You need to manage on your own. There is no way of getting off the island, okay?
The kids got excited by the idea and went downstairs. I did it, I said to Efrat. I sold them a great idea. Good for you, said Efrat, you saved our Shabbat nap. We won.
Yay, shouted Yehuda from the stairs. We are also saved.
Who was saved? Efrat asked. Me and Aviv, Yehuda breathlessly answered. We were taken off the desert island by an airplane that rescued us. It was a fun game. Do you have any more ideas, Dad?
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Ideas, I whined, that game should have lasted for two hours at least. Okay, listen up to your father. Let’s say that mommy and daddy were with you on the ship that sunk but we were not able to swim to the island. We became very sick and you will now play that you need to get along without us because we are very sick, paralyzed. Our room will be called Beit Levenstein, and the game will be played downstairs only. Okay, the kids muttered and went downstairs. Well done, said Efrat very satisfied, finally able to close her eyes.
They closed her eyes, roared Aviv. Yehuda, come quick, they closed their eyes!
What are you doing here Aviv, I asked. This is Beit Levinstein. I know, she said but Yehuda and I decided that at least one of the children must be at your bedside at all times just like Prime Minister Sharon’s sons.
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Listen up Aviv, and I want Yehuda to hear this too. It will not be easy but this is the game we are going to now play: Mommy and daddy are dead. Okay? The ship sank and only you survived. The game is that you are trying to manage on your own, like orphans. Our room is outside of the game. Is that clear? This is the cemetery. This is where we are buried, in this bed. We cannot speak, cannot sing or answer questions. Nothing. Dead. That is what we are. Now go downstairs and find yourselves a life, okay?
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Yehuda and Aviv went downstairs with out another word. Are you sure that was okay? Asked Efrat. It was a bit extreme, I said but we need some sleep or else we will expire. And that was the only game I could think of proposing that would keep them from bothering us anymore. It’s almost three o'clock and I am exhausted.
Okay, Efrat said and fell asleep with me not far behind her. AT 3:05 we were awakened by a strange voice. It was Yehuda . He was standing next me with a large kipa on his head and next to him, Aviv was wearing sunglasses and a scarf. Shshsh he signaled me with his hand. Keep being dead. What keep being dead, Yehuda, what the hell are you two doing here? This is our cemetery. Let us rest in peace for crying out loud.
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Rest, replied Yehuda, we aren’t here to disturb your sleep. We’ve here for your one year memorial. Yitgadal, v’ yitkadash… Glorified and sanctified…
Good God
I saw you young Mr. Daum stuck on a rainy day with a flat tire, the same tire you already mended once. I just wanted to remind you that something John Hart once said: Never get your flat tires repaired by someone who chews gum.
