“This year,” your newly inaugurated teen pleads, “can we please do something real? Like every normal family?"

The same thing happens every year. You plan and you plan, and in the end, you never do anything and never go anywhere, because you’re are the absolute nerdiest family on earth. But this year will be different. “This year,” your newly inaugurated teen pleads, “can we please do something real? Like every normal family? You know, rent an RV, take along a pop-up succah, travel somewhere far and exotic? Overnight, obviously.”

The nods and yesses are quick in coming. Everyone (okay, except you, the mother of the absolute nerdiest family. And your husband, who silently thinks, we say that every year) agrees. “Let’s.”

Your family makes plans. Really grand plans that you think are over-the-top ridiculous, so you tell the kids, “It’s not what you do, it’s who you do it with.” But your kids don’t listen, they’re  off to tell all the neighbors’ kids about your really grand plans, and each of the neighbors’ kids goes home and complains that they’re the absolute nerdiest family on earth and never go anywhere.

You’re renting an RV; you are so perfectly cool.

“Dream on,” you mutter.

They dream on. And on and on, because it’s Chol Hamoed morning, there’s no school, and it’s the only opportunity to sleep in.

When your kids are finally out of bed and dressed in their best, brand-new Chol Hamoed outfits and shoes, your serve them breakfast. Not cereal and milk, they have that every day. It’s Chol Hamoed, they would like to have real breakfast for a change. Fresh rolls and omelets and guacamole and Israeli salad chopped up really tiny.

“Ma, can we make S’mores for dessert?” your kid asks you while you’re trying to figure out how to pack up five meals for 11 people, because, you know, overnight. “You said we’d make S’mores on Chol Hamoed.”

Before you leave, everyone needs to daven. So everyone davens. And says Hallel. And Mussaf. And hoshanas. Then you and all the davened kids wait for Tatty and the bochurim and your daughter Hadassah’s husband to return from shul, but they’re also davening, and saying Hallel and Mussaf and hoshanas. It’s Chol Hamoed, it’s a long davening. When will you be home? you text your husband. Everyone still needs to bentsh esrog before we leave.