Purim brings out a unique social stress that lies dormant all year

I

can’t paint the picture clearly. I don’t remember all the details. I just know it’s third grade, in my classroom, middle row, second-to-last seat. There’s a can of soda and a discarded cellophane bag on my desk. I’m feeling awful. That pit-in-your-stomach-don’t-look-at-anyone-what-do-I-do-next-everyone-is-watching feeling. It was right after we’d given out shalach manos.

I don’t remember if I was snubbed (I did get soda), but I know the social uncertainty that only shalach manos can wreak.

For some of us it happens earlier, others later. But we all have this moment (and if you haven’t, the collective we despises you) where we’re counting our shalach manos and feeling ick.

It starts in school. No one is trying to hurt anyone’s feelings, but life is as it goes, and unless your mother is uber generous, or maybe rich, there’s a limit on the number of shalach manos you can give.

As a kid, it’s often deciding between real friends and aspirational friends. The friends we have and the friends that we want. It’s the decision between security and taking a chance.