“It makes me feel empowered to parent my kids, but, y’know, it also makes me feel a little bad about lost opportunities”

Someone tapped my shoulder. Who dared interrupt my sacred reading time? I looked up.

“Sharon! I’m so happy to see you again.”

She matched my smile with hers.

“Glad to see you too!” Her voice was crackly and hoarse. “Can you do me a favor?”

“Sure,” I said quickly.

Sharon gave me a look. “Chana, you barely know me. Why are you saying yes so fast?”

I shrugged. “That’s me in a nutshell, nice and impulsive.”

She gave a throaty laugh. “Listen and then tell me if it’s still yes.” I nodded, sitting straight like an attentive student.

“I was supposed to do the read aloud for the preschool kids today, I do it weekly, but,” she pointed to her throat, “this isn’t gonna work. Are you comfortable reading a book out loud to little kids?”

“This is what you were afraid I’d refuse? Sure I can read.” I stopped and looked at her. “Are they a tough crowd? Do they come prepared with rotten tomatoes? Should I be gargling raw eggs now?”

Sharon laughed again and patted my shoulder. “You’re good to go. Want to pick out a book? Or should I just give you what I planned on reading?” She held out Peter H. Reynold’s Ish.

I love that book and its theme: that we should take creative risk by not chasing perfection, but accepting things that are “ish” — like me, I’m normal-ish. “I love this book!” I told Sharon. “It’s the answer to so many things.”

“I know!” Sharon echoed as she led me to a small room off the children’s section.

There were about seven kids sitting on a large circular rug on the floor. The youngest was probably three, the oldest five. I looked at the mothers. An interesting cross-section: some frum women, both yeshivish and not, some who didn’t look Jewish at all. I smiled at them.

“As you can hear, I’m a bit hoarse and brought a replacement.” Sharon patted my shoulders.

“Awww, that’s so considerate, Sharon,” one woman in a mitpachat said.

“We’ll miss your voices,” a woman in jeans said. I guess that meant full-on acting was de rigeur.

“Thanks, all. Hopefully, I’ll be up and running next week. In the meantime, I give you Chana.” I took the opportunity to curtsey.

“Hi all, I’m Chana, and I’ll be today’s storyteller.”

“Say hi,” encouraged one mother. All the kids started waving and giggling, “Hi!” This was going to be so fun! I settled myself on the small chair, oof, I can’t remember the last time my knees were so close to my chest.

“Today we’re going to read a favorite book of mine. I know it looks like it’s for kids, but it’s for mommies too.” The kids laughed as if I’d said something hilarious. Great audience.

I opened to the first page. “Ramon loved to draw,” I read. The kids were hooked from the first sentence, leaning forward, eyes glued to me, mouths agape. I made sure to change up my voice for different characters and modulate for Ramon’s different moods. I was enjoying myself.