I wondered if this scene of chaos was what Purim was supposed to look like
As I sat at the seudah surveying the situation, I wondered what magnitude the hurricane that had overturned my home would measure on the Saffir-Simpson hurricane scale.
Stray pieces of ribbon and bits of plastic were scattered around like confetti, mixed with empty packages of chips, Bissli, and cans of Coke. We’d tried to shove most of the mess from the shalach manos, the accessories from the costumes, and the groggers into a bedroom, with the door firmly closed, before the guests arrived for the seudah, but bits and pieces of the storm had escaped.
The main nutritional content of the food that my kids had consumed in the last 24 hours was sugar and food coloring, and the effects were obvious.
Now, as I served the soup, I wondered if this scene of chaos was what Purim was supposed to look like. The men at the seudah were singing, sleeping, or drinking. The boys were out on the porch, hopefully not throwing too many dangerous toys onto the neighbor’s porch below. The girls were schmoozing about school and tests and shopping, and the little kids… I didn’t even want to know what they were doing.
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