I was recently at a Shabbos table where the age-old question of “what kind of work do you do?” came up. I can usually understand the answers to these questions, especially when they have to do with professions with which I have some familiarity. Unfortunately, the majority of the people at this Shabbos table worked in computers. Not having any idea of what they were talking about, I asked a few questions. Unfortunately, even after I asked for clarification, I still had no idea what was going on. Not one to shirk my responsibility to broaden my horizons, I decided I would hop on the computer after Shabbos and google the daylights out of the terms they used. Unfortunately, the only one I could remember was “coding.” I figured that was a good start.

Many years ago, on a family trip to Boston, we drove around a historic area that was lined with small brick buildings. They were reminiscent of the pictures one sees in history books. As we passed by Boston Harbor, my children started to exclaim how they remembered learning about the Boston Tea Party in elementary school. It brought back fond memories of the Boston Tea Party that their teacher made since, in addition to the tea, they also had cookies and cakes. This explained to me why the event was memorable, however, as the conversation ensued, it became clear that there was a gross misperception on their part.

My first inkling that my daughter knew how to count was when she was about 20 months old. Most mothers would be impressed by their child’s intellectual prowess. I, however, was shaken to the core. Let me explain: My daughter, who was dressed in an adorable pink dress with a matching bow in her hair, was standing on the couch snuggling up next to me. We were reading a book, or at least, I was reading a book, when, all of a sudden, she yelled, “1-2-3.” The next thing I knew, she rushed to the edge of the couch and tried to leap off. The book went flying into the air as I lurched forward to grab her a moment before she tumbled face forward onto the floor. To this day, I have no idea what precipitated her desire to leap tall couches in a single bound. What I do know is that, thanks to her proficiency with numbers, I was able to save her from physical harm.

I recently shared with a friend that I went to a state park about an hour away with my kids over Chol Hamoed Pesach. I described to her how we made a delicious barbecue, threw around a football (yes, I can throw a football), and then walked about a quarter of a mile down a path to see a beautiful waterfall. Based on her response, it was clear to me that she gleaned from this that I love hiking. I think it was the part where she said, “I didn’t know you were a hiker.” I’m not sure how this was her take-home message, but in all honesty, this couldn’t be further from the truth.

As parents, it is our job to teach our children many different things. These could include a simple please/thank you, being respectful of other people’s needs, treating guests properly, or basic table manners. Sometimes parents will consult their rav or the child’s teacher for some added insight or ideas on how to best instruct their children. However, for the most part, children seem to learn by instruction and by example – until they don’t.

The birth of grandchildren is a much-celebrated event. The adoring grandparents indulge in many delightful moments contemplating the terms of endearment they will eventually be called by their adorable grandchildren. Some of the more mainstream choices are grandma and grandpa, bubby and zaidy, or saba and savta. Of course, there are multiple variations on these themes, depending on tradition or personal preference. Despite the planning and possible friendly debate that goes into making these decisions, the people whose opinions are not taken into account are the grandchildren themselves. This is unfortunate since they ultimately make the decision.