Bad Boy

This afternoon I took my 3-year-old daughter to the mall for use of the play area. It's air-conditioned, it's fun for her and relaxing for me, and, most of all, it kept me away from cleaning my house all afternoon!

My princess climbed up the toy hippo, looked at me for approval, and jumped off onto the carpeted floor. She met with so much Mommy-approval the first time that she focus on this activity for about 10 minutes straight. Two ladies sat down next to me. They were speaking Arabic and wearing head-wraps, although I could still see their faces. They were dressed modestly in long pants and long sleeve shirts despite the 95-degree heat outside. These were not the kind of Arab women who come to the US and completely throw away all semblence of religion for the sake of Western comfort and fashion. You know the ones I mean. The wear so much makeup, their hair is all done in a sexy way, and their clothes are slutty and tight-fitting. But these women were not like that. They were "frum".

I asked one of the ladies where they are from and she answered, "Lebanon." Then I asked her how long she has lived here. "Six years," was her reply. Asked whether life was better here or in Lebanon, she answered, "Definitely here." The conversation was over.

I thought of my family who lives a Ketusha rocket's toss from Lebanon and wondered whether this woman's husband, brothers, or father have anything to do with that.

One minute later, as my little girl was about to jump off the hippo for the 10th time and was watching me give her a drumroll, this woman's son pushed my daughter off. I got to her as quickly as the lady got to her son. I comforted my baby while the woman chastised her son. She kept saying over and over, say "I'm sorry!" The boy refused, and buried his upset face into his mothers lap. I think he was surprised he did it.

Later, I asked my daughter why she thought the little boy pushed her. She repeated my question, thought about it, and said, "He's a bad boy."

Simple as that. HaMevin YaVin.