My Little Literalist

At Religious School on Sunday, the kids did an art project, each making a pair of painted, stained-glass-looking glasses--one each for Elijah and Miriam--for the upcoming seders. The kids who can write in Hebrew wrote those names on the glasses; the rest simply drew flowers and other decorations.

Because it's such a small school, the children all sit around a couple of tables when they do their projects. Apparently S, one of the girls in Em's class--who, it's important to note, has a younger sister named Miriam in N's class--jokingly announced, "I'm writing my sister's name on one of these glasses! That way she'll know it's for her!"

N then chimed in. "I'm gonna do the same thing." It wasn't until he'd completed his masterpiece and proudly presented it to Em that anyone realized "the same thing" wasn't writing Miriam's name on the glass...It was writing his sister's name on the glass.

When his mistake was pointed out to him, he became embarrassed; just because he doesn't always understand word-play jokes, he definitely knows when the joke is on him. When I arrived to pick them up at the end of the day and heard the story, it once again broke my more-or-less-perpetually-shattered heart. I told him to pay no attention; I told him that *I* thought it was a lovely thought, and a beautiful glass, and it would have a prominent place on our table during Passover dinner.

And thus it came to pass that Em officially joined the pantheon of prophets and matriarchs whom we will honor with a ceremonial glass of wine at our seder.

Dayenu.