I remember my worst services with kids: David squirmed in my arms, Rose threw a 45 minute temper tantrum which got us to services 5 minutes after the end. I remember my best services: David stayed home with Daddy, and Rose snuggled on my lap. This year was in between.

Rose was a delight. She followed the service avidly and loved being able to read some of the Hebrew. She snuggled with me every time we stood up.

David was not a delight. He came, and I did not need to haul him out, so I guess that's progress, but the loud singing was too much for him, and he managed his discomfort by covering his ears and saying poo poo, pee pee. Probably nobody else heard, but I did. He did love the rabbi's story, and he eagerly touched the Torah. In fact, he insisted on touching the Torah three times. I remember that being one of the few things Rose would participate in, so we're on the road. As long as it's filled with lots of honey, David is happy. As long as the scatological references are left behind, I'll be happy.