Just past midnight, close your eyes, then the baby stirs and cries. Elad goes first and tries to calm her, failed attempt – she wants her mother. She nurses and goes back to sleep, at two and four she will repeat. By then the birds are up and chirping, what is that sound that you are hearing? Can someone give a violin to Beit Tzafafah’s muezzin?  No disrespect for his religion, we all want peace with a white pigeon, we want to stop the feuds and sorrow, but can’t he wait until the morrow? At six Elad will rise to pray, and Kijkij will begin her day, and Ruth will nurse and lie to play, too much to ask? What do you say? World order needs a lot more work, you get up, you do not shirk. You’ve quite a family here to dress, two daughters and yourself no less. Your garb is modest, clear to notice, proper fit for the law office. Hug the girls and kiss your mate; then you are off lest you be late. You do your best to find solutions, saving fools from destitution. Turns out they have sold their houses, their belongings, not their spouses. They had dreams of immigration, they could not resist temptation, without visas they are stuck, they had bet it all on luck. Now they want to sue the nation, but according to citations, there are doomed to indignation. There is not much you can do. The minister is helpless too. They ask you to be passionate, but as a law school graduate, tis not a matter for the heart, the horse must come before the cart. You write some papers, talk to people, for five shekels – noodles, schnitzel. Consult the experts, search for hiccups, but at three you have a pickup. Your first stop is the nursery where Kij is on a bossy spree. You climb five stories, free the nanny, now it’s time to talk to granny. Imma has about an hour, before she grinds some cauliflower, beats and kale and roots and rind, Bushy runs to save his hind. The girls want food, they are a-bitchin’, you take them to the tiny kitchen. You cook an egg, warm some potatoes, there’s drumsticks too, and cut tomatoes. You sit with one and nurse the other, you read her books, await their father. A quick hello, a hug, a kiss, but evenings are no time for this. Ruth dislikes adversity; she’s had it with the university. You pick her up, her diaper stinks, and there’s a tweet from Flinkadink, Ruth is struggling to break loose, Kijkij brings some Mother Goose, ‘Why don’t you read to me right now?’, They all can’t wait, come on, don’t slump, Kij sits on you and fakes a dump.  On the toilet she is happy, you are with her, so is pappy, everyone is at the door, Ruth is crying on the floor, mommy won’t you read some more?  Tintin’s chillin’ on his end, to keep it up you should press ‘send’. Just rest the phone on the Niagara as you gently wipe the חרא. You know he danced a Marathon, and raised a ruckus all night long? Imma liked that he raised hell, but was his girlfriend there as well? If Tintin were the NSA then Snowden would not have a say, he rarely shares a word or two, and when he does it’s just with you. None of this is my decision, Imma needs detailed precision. What does she like and is she kind, as for her looks… oh, never mind. No refusal or rebuttal, when you guide you should be subtle, and since it’s May you might just say that we too have had a holiday. But you must get information, there can be no hesitation, sift your brothers’ fog and buzz, it’s what an eldest sister does. You bath one girl and hold the other, and hand one back to grab her father, so you can dry the bigger one, without two hands it can’t be done. Dress and press her, groom, caress her, nuzzle, snuggle, cuddle, bundle, and you let her watch Rapunzel. As you cut nails on her toes, she leans and bites her sister’s nose. You grab her hand, you reprimand; she stares you down and makes a stand: ‘Imma speak to me יפה! I didn’t ask to bring את זה.’ She has a point; you well remember how Tal arrived in mid-September. ‘How long will she stay with us?’ ‘This is for life, don’t make a fuss.’ Right then and there Tal was accepted, does Kijkij really feel rejected? She goes to pee, you make her tea, she takes some sips and grabs your lips. Quietly she melts away, goes to sleep and ends the day.  Time to Tinder mit der kinder. Osmo asks you for advice; your response will be concise: keep it going for the fun, when that stops – cut bait and run. Sometimes he has other chores – why’d you go to law school for? Engine, engine number nine, Suma’s on Chicago’s line. ‘Stu just learned to make shakshuka! How is Ruth with Kij…’, ‘Madrubah.’ Stirring tea with your כפית, as you speak of דובשנית. When you part just for the day, still you have a lot to say, all about what is above, but for short we call it love. Just past midnight, close your eyes; you turned thirty, what a prize.

Thirty? Yeah, right…

Happy Birthday