I know I've joked in recent months that the only way us Yoys will ever move from our 'hood would be if our house magically burned down while we and all of our valuables were elsewhere.
I almost made my dreams come true. Sort of.
Tonight is the seventh night of Chanukah. Most Jews have tuckered out by now and gotten lazy on the menorah front.
Not the Yoys. I live with the chief of the menorah police, Big E.
LIGHT THE MENORAH! LIGHT THE MENORAH!
He still thinks he is receiving presents every night. Oh, to be so naive!
I pulled out the big guns to light the menorah, the giant matches we receive from Bones as a Christmas present every year.
I am terrible at lighting matches. I would make for a horrible smoker. I would never ever ever look cool while lighting up. It would take me 200 strikes before I could light a match.
But these Bones matches are different. They are the bomb, literally.
As I struck the match a giant flame erupted. It shocked me. I yelled out a curse word (bad mommy). Then I dropped the match onto our counter. Rookie mistake, I know.
The wax paper beneath our menorah began to burn. A cloud of carcinogens made its way over to where my children were sitting.
Great. Here goes the house!
I quickly extinguish the burning paper, but I'm not going to lie. I was a little shaken up.
Big E was quick to analyze the situation.
YOU WERE SCARED, MOMMY!
I just KNEW this kid was smart.
I'm not as friendly as I appear.
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