So, we moved the Hobbit to a new preschool a few weeks back.  This one happens to be part of the synagogue we go to, and on Fridays all the classes in the preschool gather for a Shabbat service – a few prayers, a song or two, blessings, bread breaking.  Usually it is led by one of the rabbis. Sometimes by a teacher.  All very nice.

Last Friday was a visitor Shabbat, which means that after scooping Two out of her crib I raced off to make the 11:30 service.  We were a couple of minutes late but we found a seat toward the back of the gathering.  The group was singing a song and since I don’t know all the songs, I hummed along, bouncing two on my lap, all the while searching the crowd for my little Hobbit.  I found him almost right away, down in front, sitting with his class.  He looked as cute as ever, but I noticed that he was holding a hand over one of his ears and I wondered why.  Shoot, I thought.  I hope he doesn’t have an ear ache.

At the end of the service, when he came running over to me, his hand was still over his ear.  ”What’s wrong?” I asked him.

He looked at me blankly.

“With your ear?  Why are you holding your hand like that?”

“Oh,” he said.  ”I’m on a call.”