Yesterday was Yom Kippur. It is the holiest day of the year for the Jewish people.
We fasted from sundown on Tuesday night to sundown-ish on Wednesday. The fast is intended to help you focus on all of your wrongdoings over the past year and how to make yourself a better human in the coming year.
I was going to list all of my sins, but fortunately for me, this platform has a word limit.
We dragged the boys to Synagogue, where I had signed them up for babysitting, while Mr. Yoy and I prayed and reflected. Parenting is hard, parenting while hungry is worthy of sainthood. I had to pack lunches for the boys because they are not required to fast until they are bar mitzvahed.
Big E decided at the last minute that he would have nothing to do with something with the word "baby" in it. He was coming to sit in services with us for close to three hours. We exchanged knowing glances with the babysitting staff.
WE'LL BE BACK IN LIKE FIVE MINUTES. HAR. HAR. HAR.
Mr. Yoy, Big E, and I found three seats and sat down to listen to the Rabbi.
MOM, I'M HUNGRY.
Ha. So is everyone in here, buddy.
I KNOW YOU HAVE MY LUNCH IN YOUR PURSE. I WANT TO EAT.
I quietly explained that there was no scenario that 1) he eats in the sanctuary and 2) on Yom Kippur. Where there were hundreds of starving Jews ready to do murder over a box of stale Publix raisins.
I snuck him his string cheese and told him to go eat it outside synagogue, by the police officer guarding us from the crazies.
He nodded emphatically, as if he was on board with the plan, but in the end I watched in horror as he gnawed on his cheese stick just outside the doors of the sanctuary, in the lobby. I thought about getting up, walking the length of the sanctuary, opening the doors, and escorting him outside. But I was all out of energy.
Just add it to my atonement list...