Finding myself in the Middle East

Sunday, October 11, 2009

My daughter, the Rocket Scientist

"Ima, how does a baby come out of an Ima's belly?"

It's bedtime. I am tired. Coco-pop decided to try an alternative lifestyle--a feeewheeling newborn--and has been waking up roughly every other SECOND at night. Or something like that.

So tired. So it makes sense that Princess would spring something like that on me.

"Ima, how? It's too big to just pop out of the belly button."

Darn it. Belly button was on my lips. "Well, it's a miracle! Hashem just makes it come out!" I smile brightly, briskly, and tuck her in. There. Done.

I bend down to kiss her cheek, and get a roll of the eyes from the child who not a moment ago popped out of my belly button. Or something. "Ima. I know it's a miracle. But how does the miracle work?"

I answer something to her satisfaction (or maybe I point out the wonderful hummingbird that was just out the window! Over there! No, over there! It's so beautiful!--oh, you missed it. AnywaygoodnightIloveyouseeyouinthemorning!) and stumble off to the couch and a cup of chai. Mmmm, chai.

I totally had a point that I was getting at here. About us wanting to know how miracles work and bitachon and emunah and hishtadlus and all that. Good stuff, I think. But, oh, chai. And a depthless book and a soft couch. Too many deep thoughts are already swirling around the precocious little mind of one member of this family. I think perhaps I'll keep things at an equilibrium by just, ya know, not thinking. At. All.

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