My children's Jewish education is going splendidly. They are both very happy at Sunday School. David's teacher is going to have them do aleph bet yoga to learn their Hebrew letters. Once you've made yourself into the shape of an aleph, you aren't going to forget what it looks like. Rose now goes twice a week and insists on doing her Hebrew homework. They both come home singing.

However, Rosh Hashannah did not go well. David told me he did not want to leave school early for services. And he made that abundantly clear as I literary had to drag him down the hall to the car.

I picked my battles. You don't want to change into the gorgeous suit you picked out this morning? Ok, you can go to services in your hand drawn t-shirt and brown leggings.

I tried parables. The story of Rose's huge temper tantrum on the occasion of her 4th New Year stopped the temper tantrum he was having in the car and ended with the moral: no service, no candy.

I resorted to threats: if you don't go to services, you will not get a honey stick at the end, and you will not get cake at the after party. David refused to stand, kicked his prayer book, whined, and did everything but spit on the Torah to show how angry he was with me.

I did not know when to quit. After services, tashlich at the beach. I let them eat the bread that we were using to ritually throw into the water. I let them play on the playground and down by the water. But I should have just gone home. And then I dragged them off to a party. I kept thinking David would be in a better mood now that services were over. No.

I rationalized his rotten behavior. He's sick, maybe that made him grumpier. He loves school so much he just couldn't stand leaving.

I seriously considered quitting. I got home completely exhausted and not really in a festive mood for the holiday. I told John maybe the advice about dragging your kid to High Holy Day services no matter what was wrong. John said not to worry about it right now.

Yom Kipor is Saturday.