It is the first night of Hannukah, and we are having latkes. I also, for the first time, wrapped all the kids presents and put them on the buffet. They will pick one each night- some are big ( a camera) some are small (a box of fresh colored pencils and an art paper pad). My darling, sweet husband, who yesterday made latkes for sixty people at the preschool party ( I of course, was at work. It is a rule- it does not matter how few days a week I go down to- I’m currently at three, I will be working the day of the play, party, school, picnic, field trip, or performance. Always happens. Nurses have to ask for their days off months in advance, and school seem to mention these things at most, a month in advance. Sometimes a week in advance.) my husband is makinf latkes again tonight. So I tell him- pick up some applesauce. No, he says, it’s in the refrigerator. No, I say, we are out. How? he queries I would know if anyone ate applesauce. Well, said I what if I commando crawled down to the kitchen in the dead of night, ae it, and recycled the jar? Hmmm? What if I stood RIGHT IN FRONT OF YOU and ATE it? We were out of applesauce.
Then, the man goes and gives me ballroom dance lessons for Hannukah. Well, gues that just makes the apple suace thing look petty.