Services sucked. I went to Rosh Hashannah children’s services today. Rose had one problem after another: Miriam was going to get there before her; Miriam would probably get to play at the park afterwards; someone might shut the magazine we had been reading and we would forget what page we were on. All this said with a whiny-I’m-about-to-have-a-temper-tantrum tone of voice.

(Remind me I predicted behavior regression when we started school. Remind me this will pass. And just yesterday I was bemoaning how little time we have together. Feh!)

I hadn’t planned on David being there at all. He was going to stay home with Daddy. Except Daddy was exhausted and David’s nap and eating schedule were totally screwed up, so at the last minute I hauled him along in his bright red and white striped jammies. Really bright, really not synagoguewear.

Things did not pick up. Rose continued to whine, complain, cast stormy looks, and had to chase after the torah because she had not been paying attention when it came dancing by. David squirmed. I put him down in the aisle, and tried to find my place in the prayerbook, ignore and monitor Rose’s behavior, all while making sure no one tripped over David sitting there except he wasn’t sitting there, he had crossed the aisle. My sister said, “Did you see that?”

He crawled. After over a month of almost, not quite, he crawled strong and steady step after step. I have a lot of trouble believing in change. I get used to things the way they are and can’t imagine how they could be different. And then the baby, through trying again and again, with plenty of bonks and frustration, learns to crawl, his little red and white striped butt wagging away. That’s an image to help me into the new year.