Oh Chanukah, oh Chanukah, come… on, diaspora mama.

Well here’s a first.

Last week the kids and I were in the kitchen making latkes (that was also a first, and it was kinda obvious). Playing in the background: a Chanukah songs cd my mom had brought from the States. So, you know, some kind of boy’s choir-esque English-Hebrew mix.

We were singing along; when the songs were in Hebrew, we all sang. When they were in English and still familiar, we all sang. And when they were in English but also have identical Hebrew versions, my kids got annoyed.

“What? No!”

(Yes, they have a point.)

Anyway, after a while I had trailed off alone, singing ‘Sivivon Sov Sov Sov…’ Bebe, who was miraculously still tolerating me in the kitchen, suddenly turned to me and loudly stated,

“Lo sham, po!“

I looked at her, confused.

And then I realized – she’s right.

That’s the only truth she knows.