Happy birthday, Strudel!

Happy birthday, Strudel!

The things we do for our children.

Like the time I went to three different sporting goods stores trying to explain to the salesperson that a righty goalie stick is different from a lefty goalie stick — shouldn’t a salesperson at a sporting goods store know that?  Or driving to Minnesota Vikings training camp. Or driving to 22 baseball stadiums. Or being totally ignored for the 18 Sundays of football season. Or converting to cholov yisroel dairy products. Or sitting through countless words of Torah at the dinner table. Okay, I don’t really do that last one — sorry, kids.

And then, if you are really blessed, you have grandchildren, and then you take it to a whole new level of craziness.

So, thank God, Strudel turned 2 a few weeks ago. Last year, her first birthday party needed to be postponed because of shiva. Honestly, my recollection of the rescheduled party still is a little fuzzy. My D-I-L’s parents (Machatunim #1) made a beautiful celebration. I was in charge of the cake, I think. Hopefully, I came through, but again, a little fuzzy. This year, I was in a better headspace and ready to contribute. Machatunim #1 sent out an evite with doggies on it, so I figured that would be the theme.

I was put in charge of dog-themed cookies.

There I was, a babka on a mission. First I called a local bakery and they said they didn’t make doggie cookies. Then I went on Amazon to find doggie-shaped cookie cutters. None of them spoke to me. And the thought of them not coming out beautifully and disappointing Strudel was too much for me to bear. And then I turned to Instagram. I typed in “kosher cookies.” And that is when I hit the jackpot. I found a site and looked through all of the pictures and came across the perfect doggie cookie. It was five different cute smiling doggies all posing on a doggie bone. And they would personalize the bone with, “Happy Birthday Strudel.” Strudel’s two favorite things, cookies and doggies. I was one happy babka.

It didn’t matter that we had to take out a home equity loan to pay for the cookies, it didn’t matter that I had to drive out to Monsey to pick them up. All that would matter would be the look on Strudel’s face when she sees them the first time. That is all that matters. The things we do for our children. On the way to Monsey, I had noticed that my “Check tire pressure light” was all aglow. Truthfully, it had been on for about three weeks, but whoever takes those things seriously? I had my classical music blasting, the weather was beautiful, and I was on my way.

I finally arrived at my destination and got out of the car to pick up my Strudel’s cookies. And then I glanced down at my tire and saw that it was flat. Really flat.

I don’t do well with car-related incidents. I get very anxious and a little cuckoo (yes, more cuckoo than usual). I rang the front doorbell, and the voice on the other end said, “You need to go downstairs for the cookies.” I hoped that with all the ring-doorbells and cameras this house had, no one heard what I was muttering under my breath, but that is for another time. I finally got down to the cookie door, and instead of being all excited about the doggie cookies, I started hyperventilating about my flat tire.

“Don’t worry, it will be okay. I have a guy who can come to the house and fix the tire. Here, let me give you his number,” the adorable redheaded cookie lady told me. “Thank you so much,” I responded. I called the guy. He said that all his guys were out to lunch, but they will be back in half an hour. He told me that I was only a few miles from his garage.

To make a long story short, I got to the garage, 10 minutes and $20 later, the nail was out of my tire, the tire was fixed — and Strudel absolutely loved her cookies.

The things we do for our children.

Banji Ganchrow of Teaneck will learn to listen to her car the next time it sends her a message.

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