Is there anything better than singing Shabbat songs on a dreary rainy Friday afternoon on the way to synagogue, with a 2-year-old in the back seat yelling excitedly, "synagogue! Synagogue! I want to go to syanagogue!...")
I think not.
Took Rachel to services last night. Fortunately, Beth Israel had child care so I could enjoy (if that's a good word to describe the most depressing holiday on the Jewish calendar) the adults-only part of the evening. Rachel screamed and cried on the way in to the child care, and I gave the woman in charge a tight little smile before heading to services.
The service lasted about two hours, and I realized how much I've been missing that lovely, peaceful feeling I get after I attend Friday night services. When Drew returns I am determined to go to synagogue twice a month, bank failures be damned. He'll just have to deal with working and taking care of Rachel, like I do every day.
When I went to pick up Rachel, one of the young ladies watching her said Rachel calmed down about five minutes after I left. She was drawing a picture and had gotten Magic Marker (washable, fortunately) all over her hands. She barely looked up when I came into the room and handed the picture to me. Then she proceeded to take another Magic Marker and demand that I draw a picture of the sun.
The young lady said that Rachel knows more body parts than most 4-year-olds(!!) and that she was high energy and VERY verbal. The woman who was checking all the kids in also chimed in that Rachel was absolutely adorable.
I beamed all the way home.
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