the purim post: toddler megillah, cookies, sprained hand, and a bad man

Having seen the lovely presentation put together by another preschool parent in honor of Chinese New Year, I boldly volunteered to bring a little of the culture of my people to the kids for Purim.

And then these things happened:

I asked for volunteers to help. Actually got responses from three moms and then I had to turn them down because we were too sick that weekend to have anyone come over and help make us cookies.

Which led to:

Me making 60 hamantaschen by myself, with this recipe from Claudia Roden. I’d made them last year and remembered them being delicious. What I’d forgotten was how tough and crumbly the dough was to work with. Which was fine enough at the time, when I made less than 20 cookies, but to combine the butter with the flour and then knead out that rock-hard dough and fold 60 little triangles? I actually had bruises. On the palm of my hand. Which had frozen into a claw shape.

That led to:

Me going to the chiropractor the next day. My chiropractor has a system where you write a note to her about what is ailing you, and place the note on your back while you lay face down on the table and wait for her attention. The note has the pre-printed phrase: “Dear Dr. E., Since my last visit…” and I put “I sprained my hand making cookies.” She asked me if she could frame it.

But back to the toddlers. I had to find a way to tell the story of Purim. No problem, I thought, I’ll just Google toddlers+purim spiel and get some ideas. But the response from the internet?

<crickets>

The truth is, all I really remember about Purim from my childhood can be summed up thusly: I liked poppy seed hamantaschen even though the texture was strange. My Aunt Edith made them every year. At Hebrew school we would have a carnival at which I would usually win a goldfish, taken home in a plastic baggie. In temple, the story of Purim was read and we would shake noisemakers/graggers. The story was this (again, in my memory of it): There was a king, he had a queen, Vashti. But Vashti wasn’t nice. And then something happened and he needed another queen. He married the very pretty Esther, who was Jewish but he didn’t know it. Her cousin Mordecai was there. There was a bad man named Haman. Haman hated Jews. Mordecai helped the king figure out Haman was bad and saved the Jews. Esther said something to the king about being Jewish and related to Mordecai. And so, today we have a party. And we eat triangle-shaped cookies that represent Haman’s hat.

I’ve realized and learned a few more things about the story in researching it (the whole Megillah) to present to the kids:

There is much death and subterfuge in the story. A slightly expanded summary could go thusly — and I’m no Rabbinical scholar so feel free to correct me if I got it wrong:

There was a king who had a feast for a week. In a drunken stupor he demands his wife, Queen Vashti come to him (nudge nudge, wink wink). She refuses. He has her killed.

The king holds a contest to find the fairest woman to be his new queen. Esther wins. The king doesn”t know she is Jewish.

Meanwhile, her cousin Mordecai overhears the king’s cooks planning to have him poisoned. He tells the king, saving his life. But does he get even a little “Thank You”? Not really.

The king has an advisor, Haman, who is rich, greedy, mean, and full of himself. The king likes him though, and decrees that everyone in the land should bow down to Haman.

Mordecai won’t bow down. This makes Haman so mad!

Meanwhile, the King realizes his oversight and has a long conversation with Haman about — Hey, if you knew a guy and wanted to do something nice for him, what would you do?

Haman makes the list — thinking these wonderful gifts are for himself — and the King makes him go do all the nice things for Mordecai.

Haman’s cousin witnesses some of this and throws herself out a window in shame.

(Are you kidding me? No.)

Haman decides all the Jews must die, especially Mordecai. He builds a scaffold for him in his backyard.

Esther goes through a complex series of machinations involving parties and drink to butter up the king and then tells him about her being Jewish and related to Mordecai, and about Haman’s plan.

The Jews are saved. Haman and his ten sons are hung from the scaffold instead.

… So, yeah, ummmmm… how to tell this story to little kids?

For the 2 year olds, we made them construction paper crowns, for the 3-5 year olds, I taught them how to make graggers with paper plates and beans and colored pencils and a stapler (an activity they then got to do all week at their art/activity station). To both groups, I read a book of Jonah’s that tells all about making the cookies.

As a kid, it always bothered me that we ate the hat of the bad guy. Seemed to me like we were celebrating the bad guy by making cookies shaped like his hat. But this was a paradox I chose to accept rather than question. In my internet wanderings I found an explanation I liked. There are many explanations, some having to do with German and Yiddish derivations of the words for pocket-danish and poppy seeds. But I went with — we eat his hat and that is how we banish him.

So, I told them these pieces of the story:

There was a good man named Mordecai and a bad man named Haman. Haman wanted to send all the Jews away, but Mordecai convinced the king that it was better to love everyone and let them stay and live in the town all together. So on Purim, we celebrate by making and eating cookies. And when you eat this cookie, shaped like Haman’s hat, you make the bad man go away. And when you shake the noisemaker, you scare the bad man away.

The teachers seemed to think this went over well.

Yesterday, at the park, on the swings, Jonah said: You eat the cookies and the bad man goes away. You shake the rattle and the bad man goes away.

So I guess the story made an impression.

Not that I want him worrying about bad men. Hopefully the overall message is one of empowerment? Eat cookies and you will be protected from all evil. Amen.