Purim shortcuts

tot-made. I love the blob in the foreground.

Happy Purim, everyone.  If you’ve waited until the last minute to think about costumes, see my emergency kid costume ideas at JewishEveryday com. White paper plates and even a lunch sack can become a crown in seconds, and a bathrobe or towel can be royal garb and cape. If your kid is young enough, this is good enough. If your kid is old enough to use the word “lame,” this is not good enough.

At my house, Toddler has not indicated any dress-up preference at all, so I get to wield full costume authority. He will be King Ahasuerus. He can actually say King Ahasuerus. Soon enough, the time will come when dressing up like a character from the Purim story will be unthinkably dumb, so I take my chance while I can.

We had a program yesterday at Sunday School for families with young children, and I was in charge of planning the activity stations.  I took one shortcut I now regret.  Because I am loathe to delegate (I would rather do everything myself than ask anyone to do anything. Pathological, really), I was faced with the task of making hamantaschen dough a day or so early in the synagogue kitchen. Alone, of course, because of the pathological delegation allergy.  This did not sound fun.  Then, I remembered seeing Pillsbury cookie dough sheets at the grocery store, folded in a package and ready to spread out and cut.  After long searches online and in store, I discovered it is a seasonal item and only around for Valentine’s Day.  Wish I’d known that earlier.  I did find some tubs of Nestle’s sugar cookie dough (kosher dairy), and these worked okay, but not great.  The dough was stiff and sticky at the same time.
Next year, someone who can delegate should probably ask for parent volunteers to make the dough.  Besides, cooking together in the synagogue kitchen is another way for parents of little kids to get to know each other, to feel themselves a part of the building and community, and to help everyone out at the same time. It takes a shtetl, after all. Preferably, a shtetl with somebody, somewhere who can tell people what to do.