It was a gloriously warm April Saturday morning when George stepped onto the balcony which led off the dining room and looked out over the Atlantic Ocean. There was a slight breeze blowing as was usual at that time of the day, and the waves washed ashore in silence as the tide was going out.

He watched some human children chasing a few of his congregants, with what he believed was misplaced glee. But he promised he would not get caught up in that but use it as part of his sermon later that morning at the synagogue where he was the part time Rabbi and Cantor.

He closed his eyes for a moment and inhaled as much sea air as his lungs would hold. He held it there for a second or two, and then slowly let it out believing he was ridding his mind of all the toxicity he had absorbed during his last day at work. He then prepared his mind for a new day, which had all the promise of being better, regardless of what the humans were doing to destroy the habitats of his congregants. He closed his eyes again and took the second of three deep breaths which he held and began to let out slowly until a familiar voice behind him sped up that process. He dared not look behind him. He knew it was Rosa. Her voice was unmistakable.

“Daddy, Daddy, Daddy!! Timmy just called me a brat. I’m not a brat, am I? I’m a JAP.”

Ah, thought George, to be or not to be that is the question. He had asked himself that on many occasions but as always, came up with the same answer. Yes, he was a father, so it had to be. He turned and looked at his drama queen who stood with her back against the door looking distraught.

“And why would he think you’re a brat, Rosa dear?”

“Because I knocked over the tower he was building with his Legos.”

Now in George’s mind that qualified as being a brat, but he knew through years of experience that he had to choose his words carefully. Rosa was a master of drawing her father into a lopsided discussion from which he would never extract himself as the same person he was a few minutes earlier.

“Well, that wasn’t very nice of you,” he replied knowing that his daily routine had been forever interrupted. After the discussion was over it would be time for him to get ready to go to Shul.

“But Daddy,” whined Rosa, “he wasn’t building it properly.”

“Properly according to whom?” asked George and then as always regretted having uttered those words. He knew he had been sucked in. This wasn’t going to end well for him.

“Me, Daddy me.”

He had no choice but to follow the conversation to its natural conclusion. Could he try something new? He could and what did he have to lose, nothing.

“I see,” he replied taking in a deep breath, proud that he did get in the final of his three deep breaths. “How many towers have you built?”

“None,” replied Rosa quickly her mind way ahead of her father’s.

“Then how can you say he was building it wrong?”

“Because I have seen towers on the TV all the time.”

“But I thought you only watched the Barbie movie and the Unicorn Academy, and I don’t think they have towers on there, do they?”

“Daddy, Daddy, Daddy listen to me, this is very important. When I come home from school and after I say hi to you and mummy, I get my snack from Julia and then I sit with Elizabeth and she puts on the National Geographic Channel. There are many towers on that channel.”

At first, George was very proud of his seven year old daughter who was able to pronounce the words, National Geographic perfectly and should’ve dropped the conversation and switched to another subject but instead, being the masochist he was he asked, “and what towers are those?”

That was an easy one for Rosa, “the Tower of London and the Eiffel tower,” she shot back. Ok she won, but not before he told her that those two towers show how towers can be so different from each other, something Rosa hadn’t considered and just answered with her patented one word answer, “oh.”

“Anyway,” added George, “it’s time for me to begin to get ready to go to synagogue but first…” and with that he took in another deep breath. “What’s Julia cooking for breakfast? It smells really good.”

Rosa’s head drooped and she slid down the doorway and sat on the deck. George was amused. “I guess it’s not oatmeal.”

“No daddy,” she replied quietly, “it’s a two bird breakfast.”

“Two bird?” George was perplexed by her answer. “What two birds?”

“Turkey bacon and chicken eggs,” she replied mournfully. “Double murder.”

“But you like turkey, dear daughter.”

“Yes, but not as bacon, plus Julia is adding kale in with the eggs.”

“No Rosa dear. I don’t think its kale. It will be spinach, at least that’s she got in her last Misfits box.”

“I only like spinach raw,” replied Rosa refusing to cede another discussion to her father.

“I’ll tell you what,” he replied, walking over to Rosa and at first trying to pick her up, but was unable to do so. He put her down gently, “in that case,” he continued not missing a beat, “why don’t you have a spinach salad and I’ll have the double bird breakfast.”

“That’s not fair Daddy, that’s just not fair.”

“What’s not fair about it?” George blew his wife a kiss as she walked into the dining room but not onto the deck. Sybil did not want to be drawn into another pointless discussion with her youngest daughter and husband. She ignored the kiss.

“George, can you please get me a mug of coffee otherwise I won’t be able to function.” George didn’t reply but pulled Rosa up by her wing and walked with her into the kitchen. Rosa didn’t acknowledge her mother’s presence. Sybil rolled her eyes. “Monster!” she said under her breath but loud enough for George to hear.

“Who’s a monster?” he asked continuing his walk into the kitchen. Sybil panicked for a second but then noticed some children chasing crows on the beach while screaming with delight.

“Those kids on the beach,” she replied very proud at having got herself out of a jam. No George didn’t believe her. When did she ever care about them? He knew she was talking about Rosa.

“Did you wish your mother a good morning?” Rosa shook her head and George turned her around.

“Good morning Mummy,” Rosa replied trying to turn back to see what Julia was doing, but George in order to keep peace and harmony in the nest especially on Shabbat, made her wait for her Mother’s reply.

“Good morning darling,” replied Sybil.

“By the way Sybil, those monsters on the beach chasing the Falashas and creating havoc is going to be the gist of my sermon.”

“Can’t wait to hear that,” replied Sybil smiling evilly at George who returned with her coffee.