Who Needs Abba?

I was the only man there. My wife had gone to Yerushalayim for the day and it was me and Elka, my six-year-old, arriving at her first-grade orientation before the school year.

So there I was with a bunch of mothers from Elka’s class. It was so cute, all of these former preschoolers holding tightly to their mother’s skirts, nervous about what this assembly would mean for them as they prepared for the next stage in their lives. I looked down at my beautiful little girl to share this special father-daughter moment.

She in turn looked up to me with her cute little eyes and adorable accent and said, “Daddy, you ken go ’ome now, eets just for imas…”

And then she led me ever so gently to the door — in case I didn’t understand her eengleesh.