Happy Happy

There’s a whole lot of celebrating going on this week in the Land of Mom.
There was our Engagemeversary yesterday.
There is a certain little piglet’s certain little month birthday tomorrow.
And, today, there are two,
count ‘em,
birthdays in the family: My baby sis and mother-in-law.
This makes for a very busy weekend.
Fine by me.
This also means lots of cake.
Fine by me.
Tonight, as we gathered at my Mother-in-law’s place to celebrate day-o-birth,
we got to talking about something that every Jew talks about on Shabbat: Good old Santa Claus.
Apparently, my Mommom-in-Law believed in Santa Claus until she was 10.
Apparently, she still believes that ‘all good little girls should get a visit from Santa!”
Apparently, she forgets that we are Jewish.
As much as I appreciate St. Nick and all of his jolly, good cheer, he will not be making an appearance in our home.
Nothing against the guy;
it’s just that Judah Maccabee is, and always will be, my homeboy.
However, just because my daughter won’t be growing up putting out milk and cookies for Santa on Christmas eve,
nor will she be searching for gifts in the fireplace on Christmas morning,
it doesn’t mean I don’t have a certain soft spot for Mr. Claus.
He and I have a long, and somewhat complicated, history,
(more on that later in the week)
but Santa did give me one very special, irreplaceable gift.
You see, When I was 2 and a half, my parents took me out to California to visit my brand new baby cousin. During our visit, we traveled to Toddler Mecca, otherwise known as Disneyland. Since it was December, my mom and dad let me sit on Santa’s lap.
When Santa asked me what I wished for, there was one
and only one thing that I really, truly desired;
A baby sister.
I won’t lie and say that I remember this,
but I’m sure he ho-ho-ho’ed,
told me to be a good, little girl,
and sent me on my good, little Jewish girl way.
Now, I don’t know what kind of magic happened in those ho ho hos
(and I promise you, mom, no pun intended here…)
but exactly one year later, one week before Christmas,
Santa gave me my gift,
and granted my greatest wish.
My baby sister was born,
and we’ve been best friends
(cough cough)
ever since.
And let me just add that for years and years after that blessed day,
any time that my sister and I would be in a knock down, drag out brawl,
and I told her how much I loathed her and begged for her to leave me (and my barbies!!) alone,
she would always come back with the same retort:
And then, I kind of had to give up. What else could I say? She was right. For better or for worse, she was mine.
And, luckily for us,
it’s almost always been for better
And for best.

Happy birthday to my beautiful, talented, brilliant, twerpy little sister.
What a gift you are to this world,
and to all of us.
I am proud of you each and every day.
Big Sisty, Ever After


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