It was the first time that I stopped to think about how hard it must be to be two
I explained the situation to the afternoon secretary (who may, by the way, be one of the lamed-vav tzaddikim), who took one look at my son, and with all the compassion and empathy you can imagine said, “It’s hard to be such a big neshamah in such a small body.”
My son has these big, knowing eyes, and they looked up at her as if to say, in their two-year-old way, “Yes, it is.” My eyes filled with tears because it was so spot-on and so where I was in that moment. I was busy calling babysitters in case I needed to go to the hospital, worried, annoyed, wrapped up in the logistics of how the rest of the day would go.
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