This story is not entirely factual. (it’s not exactly fictional either; our keyboards are missing letters.) I’m sure all parents have experienced something like this. (Feel free to share your stories below.) Although I still usually dread these dangerous silences, the dread is now mixed with an excited anticipation. These silences may be costly insome ways, but sometimes, in other way they’re priceless. These silences mean trouble but they also mean something else: My kids are getting along.

As a parent, nothing makes me happier than seeing my children get along. Much time is spent encouraging them to help each other and they receive very strong positive reinforcement when they do so. Sometimes this reinforcement is given, even when my children are misbehaving:

My wife likes to bake with children. Last week my wife baked cookies with them. Somehow or another I ended up supervising the children while they decorated the cookies exactly when the baby needed a nap. I took the cranky six-month-old upstairs and left the other two children downstairs putting sprinkles on their cookies. They were told to keep quiet because the baby needed to fall asleep. Fifteen minutes later, I came down to find that my children had been very quiet. Perfectly silent. Flower was everywhere. Their faces where covered in cookie batter. They were picking cookie dough off of the rollers, and eating sprinkles by the handful. They looked up and smiled. “We finished putting sprinkles on all of the cookies,” my son said with chocolate and sprinkles all over his hands and face. “Yeah!” exclaimed my daughter, who also had chocolate in her hair. Had my children been fighting over the sprinkles, I would have been furious. But as things were, I was laughing. I was very proud of my children. I let them continue, and when to the other room to get a broom with a smile on my face.

God wants us to get a long. In Parshat Noach , we have two stories of people who angered God, with God reacting in drastically different ways. In the first story, God destroys all of humanity, save one family, with a massive flood, because people stole from one another. In the second story, God disperses a nation that sought to wage war against the heavens by building a giant tower up to the sky, by confusing they’re language. Compared to the story of the flood, this story is extremely short. When I read this story, it almost presented as if God thought it was cute, and the way that the people were punished seemed relatively painless, and actually kind of funny.

The greatest joy for a Father is to see his children getting along. As long as the kids are getting along, a good Father won’t mind the mess.

It was brought to my attention that, to date, I have written almost exclusively about my oldest son. I mentioned my daughter in one post, but have yet to mention my youngest son at all. Although he’s adorable, he really doesn’t give me much to write about in the context of this blog.

Here’s why:

Fatherhood allows us to see through the eyes of God. Our children are a microcosm of all of humanity. The way we relate to our children can give us a glimpse of how God relates to us.

I love each of my children each in their own unique way. The relationship I have with my eldest son is very different from the relationship I have with my daughter, which is equally different from the relationship I have with my youngest son. Each of them relates to me in different way as well.

A child really never understands how much a parent does for them, but my oldest son has a much greater understanding than his younger sister. He understands that I work to earn money, and that money is used to by everything I give him. He also understands that when I take him places, or let him come into my office, I am stopping my work to spend time with him. He gets what’s going on, and is grateful. He misses me when I’m gone. A hug, kiss, “thank you,” or “I love you,” from my son means a lot. I love him and he knows it.

My daughter says “thank you” the same as her older brother, and is just as excited as her older brother when I walk in the door, but being much younger, doesn’t really have an understanding of what or how much is being done for her and given to her. Although I know this, her hugs, kisses, thank-yous, or I-love-yous, mean just as much. I love her and she know’s I love her.

My youngest son is 6 months old. If I dropped dead, he’d probably not notice. If he didn’t see my face for a few days he probably wouldn’t remember me the next time he saw me. He has no gratitude for anything I’ve done for him whatsoever. He’s not even really aware of what I do for him. I love him so much, and he has no idea what’s going on. And yet, somehow, his smile means the world to me.

I love all of my children equally even though they don’t all love me equally. The difference is the depth of the relationship. There is a principle in Judaism that love comes from giving. The depth of the relationship depends on how much I can give to my child. At my baby’s level of awareness, what I can give him is very limited, or shallow. I give him food & clothing. I hold him when he cries, I play with him, talk to him, and smile at him, but none of these connections have the same potential for depth as the connections one can create by giving to an older, more aware child.

God loves us. We’re his children. He loves us whether we know he exists, or not. Whether we appreciate what he does for us, or not. God doesn’t need our recognition, prayers, or anything else from us for that matter. The one who truly benefits from these connections is us.

When we pray, we are deepening our relationship with God, whether we’re asking something of Him, thanking Him for something, or just praising him. God doesn’t need it, but he wants us to deepen our relationship with him. The more we know, love, contemplate, understand, and appreciate God, the more he can give us.

No matter how much I might want to give my six-month-old some good advice, I simply can’t do it. He’s not able to accept it. I love my son, and our relationship is perfect for the time being. It would be sad, even tragic, if the depth of our relationship didn’t grow over time. Not because I’d love him any less, but simply for the lost opportunity for me to give to him.

In the end, the greatest thing a child gives to his father, is the opportunity to give, without any desire of receiving in return.

Our two-year-old went upstairs for her nap right after lunch. About half an hour later my wife took the baby up stairs, put him down and then went to go lie down herself.

I stayed downstairs to play trucks with my favorite fully-potty-trained-when-awake three-year-old. After a little while, I went to lie down on the couch. It wasn’t long before I fell asleep.

Two hours later I woke up to find my son sleeping right next to me on the other couch. He was lying on his stomach with his tush up in the air, as he often does, but something didn’t look right. There was a belt buckle in the back of his pants.

After a moment of confusion, I figured out what was going on. I was so incredibly proud of him. He had used the bathroom by himself while I was napping and got himself dressed again, without waking me up, and then proceeded to take a nap.

When he woke up, I told him how proud I was of him, and what a big boy he was becoming. He was proud of his success and was confident that he could do even better. He told me that he wouldn’t need me to wake him up in the night anymore to use the bathroom. Now, over a week later, he has been true to his word.

That afternoon he went to play at a friends house, had friends come over to play, went outside to play with kids from the neighborhood, and ate dinner, all with his pants still on backwards.

If my son had wanted to know how to put his pants on, he could have just asked. He chose to figure it out himself. Eventually, he’ll get it.

When we have questions, who can we turn to? God has left us a book, and the halachic system, and hopefully enough wisdom, with which to interpret it. But, sometimes, I can’t help but wonder about the way we practice Judaism in modern times. When learning Talmud, or any other ancient Jewish text, seeing the way Jewish laws, customs, philosophies, and rulings have changed and evolved over time, one almost has to ask: do we have it right?

From major issues of free will, to minor issues of whether or not I’ve tied my tzitzit properly. Has our focused shifted to much towards scholarship? towards “feel-good spirituality”? Are we really supposed to be taking an active roll in history? Are we even asking the right questions?

These aren’t questions that are easily answered. When my son put his pants back on, he was doing what he thought was right; what he thought I wanted him to do. He was doing his best to make me and himself proud, with what information he had. For the most part, he got it right. The mistake he made didn’t anger me. It was endearing. Every time I saw his “mistake” throughout the day, I was reminded of how hard he tries, and I smiled.

We have an obligation to continue to search for truth, and to act accordingly, given the information we have. That is the purpose of the system of halakha that we have been given. If occasionally, we fail to use this system properly, we may end up wearing our pants backwards.

Let’s hope that if our Father is looking down at us, shaking His head, it’s with a smile.

Though I was unable to serve in the army myself, for the past last couple of years, I have been able to live vicariously through our adopted “lone soldiers” also known as chayalim bodedim. (In the last post, my three-year-old son wrote a letter to God mentioning some of our soldiers.) Having these soldiers live with us has been a really great experience for the whole family, especially our children.

The kids love them. They consider their chayalim to be members of the family. Nothing in our house is more exciting for the kids than when one of their soldiers gets a weekend off. My two- year-old daughter will have nothing to do with anyone else in the house when one of her chayalim is home. She will only sit next to Sammy. Boomy needs to read the bedtime story. Mordy absolutely must hold her hand when she crosses the street.

The kids ask lots of questions too. What do they do in the army? Why do they have big guns? The children understand the answers. The children understand that God protects us in the Land of Israel, but “God helps those who help themselves.” We need to do our part to protect the Land as well. Lots of the things involved in protecting the Land are dangerous, and not a lot of fun. The kids are thankful for the soldiers. They pray pray for the soldiers’ success and safety.

My wife was putting on my two-year-old daughter’s seatbelt. My daughter asked what is was for. “The seatbelt helps keep us safe,” my wife answered. My daughter added “Also Sammy and Boomie keep us safe.”

A few weeks ago our three-year-old son asked “Where’s Boomie?” My wife explained that he was no longer a chayal and that he would be going to college in the fall. My son was very excited. “Did Moshiach come?” He thought that there was no longer a need for soldiers. When my wife explained that, in fact, Moshiach had not yet come, my son was very upset. “When is going to come? He needs to come already!”

For the most part, the children have a pretty good understanding of what the soldiers do, why we should be grateful to (and for) them, and why it is important to serve in the army. For the most part, that is.

During our trip to the Old City earlier this week, we saw a replica of the golden menorah. I explained to my son that what were looking at was not, in fact, the original menorah from the Temple. He asked where it was. I told him that we didn’t know for sure, but that it might be in the Vatican, along with many other temple utensils. He asked if we could get it back. I told him that a man called “The Pope” wouldn’t give us anything back. My son was indignant. “But we need it!” he exclaimed. Then he had an idea. He began to explain, in his own words, how the chayalim should go to Vatican city, shoot the place up and “take back all of our stuff for the Beit Hamikdash.”

I tried to explain why that wasn’t a good idea, but I couldn’t really give him a good reason why we shouldn’t do it. World opinion is a hard thing to explain to an angry three-year-old. I told him that some people might get very angry, and now probably wouldn’t be a good time for that. He seemed satisfied with that. As he often does, he simply replied “Maybe tomorrow, or maybe later. We don’t know. We’ll see.”

We’ll see.

It is often said that God is particularly fond of the prayers of children. I can see why.

When we arrived to the Old city, my son was very upset. He didn’t like that there were so many broken pillars. He was upset about the mosque where the temple once stood. (Pointing at the dome of the rock he said “That isn’t supposed to be there.”)

Once he got over his fear of the tourists and beggars, he went over to the wall and carefully places his note on in a crack.

Here, in his own words, is the letter my son wrote to God:

Dear [God],

Please make all the sick people feel better, especially Great Grandpa.

Please help the [IDF soldiers] fight the bad guys. Please take care of the [IDF soldiers], especially Sammy & Mordy.

Please fix the [Holy Temple in Jerusalem].

Please help me grow stronger and help me learn Torah.

Please help [my little brother] get stronger. Each day he will get stronger and stronger until he’s strong.

Please bring Moshiach.

Thank you for my fire truck and blocks.

I sometimes question my own parenting capabilities. Am I educating my children properly? I don’t know if I can take any credit for my son’s religious inclinations, but when a child asks, of all of the places in the world, to visit the site of the destroyed Temple in Jerusalem, somebody is doing something right.

Before bedtime we talked about what went wrong yesterday. We decided that he needed to be woken up twice during the night in order to prevent any accidents. When I finished work, just before midnight, I woke him up and he used the bathroom. Then I woke him up again just around 5:00AM and he used the bathroom again. He woke up this morning dry. I was very proud of him. I knew how difficult it was for him. I hugged him and told him what a big boy he was, and he started to feel pretty proud as well. Knowing that I was proud of him made a real difference.

But if I take a step back, what am I really proud of? He couldn’t have done it without me. I woke him up in the middle of the night. Even if I hadn’t done it, so what? Everyone gets potty trained. It’s normal. It’s abnormal not to get potty trained. It’s something that’s been expected of nearly every person for the last thousand years.

Even so, the sense of pride felt at these moments is genuine. Any father will tell you that to even question these feelings is ridiculous.

And yet, when it comes to God, we question these feelings all the time. We feel that no matter how much effort we put in, we will never achieve greatness. Someone else accomplished in a week what took me 6 months. In my entire life, I will never accomplish what he accomplished by the time he was nineteen.

Even so, a Father’s feelings for his children are genuine. Our Father knows how difficult things are for us, and is proud. Any father will tell you that to even question these feelings is ridiculous.

Sometimes, just knowing that our Father is proud, can make all the difference in the world.

I don't take pictures of my kids on the toilet...

My oldest son was potty trained relatively easily. We had our fair share of messes, but when I got it, he got it. He has been wearing diapers at night, and was reluctant to give them up.

He and I had a talk about this, and he decided he was ready to sleep in underwear. He was actually pretty excited about the idea.

The first night, he wet the bed.

The second night, he wet the bed.

The third night he wanted his diaper back. I gave it to him.

The fourth night I convinced him to try again. He wet the bed again. He was uncomfortable in his wet pajamas, but not enough to really try and do anything about it.

The fifth night, he wet the bed again. He wasn’t waking up right away, and was developing a rash from his wet pajamas. The rash didn’t hurt him much, but seeing it upset him, and really wanted to give up. He wanted his diapers back. As a father I felt two conflicting emotions. I wanted give him some rash cream, a kiss on the cheek, and his diaper back. At the same time, I knew that he was capable of doing this, and the more he wet the bed, and the more uncomfortable this made him, the more he’d want to overcome this challenge.

Last night, before bed, we discussed the problem. He told me he would try to get up and use the bathroom himself at night, but he wasn’t sure if he could. He told me he really wanted to, but it was hard for him. I asked him if he’d like me to wake him up in the middle of the night so he could use the bathroom. He said he would, so when I got home from work last night around 1:00AM, I woke him up. He hadn’t wet the bed yet. He used the bathroom and went back to bed. He was very pleased with himself.

In the morning, around 6:05AM, he came in to my room. He told me his bed was dry… but he had wet himself running to the bathroom.

We’ll try again tonight.

Children don’t always know what’s best for them. I know that he can do this, and I know that ultimately, even though he may never appreciate it, he will be better off for the discomfort I’m having him go through. He might resist a bit, but ultimately, he’ll do what I ask because he trusts me.

Before becoming a father, I think I could understand this as an analogy for our relationship with God, but a key component was missing until I became the father: when my son has a rash, it hurts me too, maybe more than it hurts him.

Knowing that God is hurt by our suffering, and loves us enough to put us through it anyway really changes things, especially if we can trust that God knows what’s best.

Just a thought…