“Don’t princesses become queens?” asked a concerned Rosa as she sat at the dining room table trying to finish up her homework.

“Not always,” replied Elizabeth upon whom the day’s duty fell to make sure that the three Blau children finished their homework and helped them when they needed it.

Rosa never asked for help and so unlike her brother and sister, she constantly got into trouble at school. But to Rosa, that was part of her charm.

“Then why would someone want to be a princess?”

“Rosa, have you finished your homework?” Elizabeth wanted to leave the nest and go back to her office where her assistant was preparing for a court date the next day.

“Not quite aunty, but the question I asked is very important to me.”

“Why is that?” There was no way Elizabeth could get around answering that question without Rosa throwing a fit.

“Well, I’m a Jewish American Princess and if I can never be queen, then I don’t want to be a princess anymore.” She stopped for a moment to judge whether Elizabeth was biting or whether Rosa needed to finish her homework. If she had posed a question Elizabeth couldn’t answer, then she would have to return to her work. She smiled to herself when she saw that Elizabeth had taken the bait.

“It’s not the same type of princess. You weren’t born into a royal family like Princess Anne.” “Oh,” and then Rosa stopped for a second, “is she queen?”

It was then Elizabeth decided there was no way out of the quandary she had put herself in, and so there was only one thing to do. “Focus on your homework Rosa. We can talk about this at dinner.”

“Are you staying for dinner?” Rosa knew the answer. Elizabeth never stayed for dinner on weekdays and since that was Wednesday, the answer was no. But Rosa couldn’t let that deflection go by unanswered. Elizabeth rolled her eyes and pointed to Rosa’s workbook. Rosa sighed and picked up her pencil.

Sybil came by to see if she could lay the table for dinner yet. “Rosa when are you going to be done? Dinner will be ready soon.”

“I’m done, Mummy,” Rosa put her pencil down. Elizabeth looked at her workbook. Rosa picked up her pencil, “just one more minute Mummy,” and then added, “Elizabeth is distracting me.”

Sybil smiled. She knew her daughter well and instead of getting trapped in a never ending back and forth, she left the room. Rosa looked at Elizabeth who in turn looked away. She began to finish her homework.

About five minutes later Rosa announced she was done. Elizabeth quickly turned her workbook around before she decided to close it and put it away and was pleased. Rosa had in fact finished her homework and done it properly. Needless to say, Elizabeth thought it was her proctoring which made Rosa complete her homework.

The other two children had already finished theirs and Julia was in the kitchen finishing up dinner, which she had placed in the slow cooker before she went to school. Timmy was in the living room building a structure with his legos under the watchful eye of Moshe who had flown over to discuss some rabbinical teaching, being that Purim was coming up in a couple of days.

Having smelled the brisket Julia had placed in the crockpot he decided to invite himself to dinner. No invitation was really needed as George and Sybil’s home had an open house every day being that he was the Rabbi for that little community. “You know in New York there used to be a place called Mendy’s that had the best pastrami in the world,” said George as he walked back into the living room after being outside for a couple minutes adjudicating a dispute between a seagull and a member of his congregation, who felt he had been cheated in a small real estate transaction. “Of course you were,” George told the congregant. “How many times have I told you not to do business with seagulls, they have no ethics.”

“No, no,” replied Sybil who had also walked into the living room after being kicked out of the kitchen by her daughter before she set the stove on fire, “the best is Pastrami Queen in Manhattan!”

“I don’t know,” shrugged Moshe, “I’ve not been to either, but in Addis Ababa we used to have a roadside seller called The Lion of Judah, who made the most delicious pastrami. It was excellent.”

“Well,” added Sybil not believing a word Moshe had said. “Julia’s pastrami is better than them all.”

“I really liked the one from Alan’s Deli in Parsippany New Jersey. Oh, how I miss that place. He’s out of business now, it became a Mexican restaurant serving Tacos. Some guy from Mexico flew in and paid him a lot of money for his place. Alan always wanted to go down to Clearwater in Florida and open a branch of his deli there, because he felt there weren’t enough Jews on that side of the coast. And maybe by opening a wonderful pastrami restaurant, he could attract a few more.”

“And did it?” Moshe was intrigued.

“No, but the gentiles now love pastrami!”

Julia poked her head in, “dinner’s ready.”

“Oh dear!” said Sybil flying out of the room, “I haven’t set the table yet.”

Rosa was in her room wondering when and if she could become a queen and her interest was piqued when she heard her mother talk about a queen. “So, I can become a queen,” she said pulling out her chair and sitting down.

“You can become anything you would like,” George was in a great mood.

“Even a queen?” asked Rosa.

“Even a queen!” Replied George, as always walking into the well laid trap by his youngest daughter.

“Elizabeth told me I can never be a queen.”

George was about to answer but instead closed his beak and looked around. Yes, Elizabeth had gone back to her office. “Don’t believe anything Elizabeth tells you,” which brought a scowl from Sybil thinking it was the wrong message to send to their children. “Well,” he rephrased his answer, “not everything. You can’t believe everything anyone says. Sometimes they exaggerate.” Sybil felt better.

“So, I can become a queen then, because I’m only a princess right now.”

“Yes of course!” replied Moshe helping himself to a very large portion of Julia’s pastrami, “you know we Jews had a queen once. A very important queen who stopped the Jews from being massacred.”

“Oh,” replied Rosa her mouth full of delicious pastrami and cabbage. “What’s her name?”

“Was,” continued Moshe, “Queen Esther,” adding “oh my, this is as good as The Lion of Judah. I must tell the rest of the Falasha community.”

“But didn’t they have a queen as well?” asked Julia who took several bows for her cooking.

“Yes,” she was married to King Solomon, “Queen Sheba.”

“But Esther is better,” added Rosa before the conversation went on to other subjects.

“Why is that?” asked Moshe.

“Because Hadassah is my Hebrew name.”

“That’s right!” answered George pointing his knife at Rosa bringing on much scorn from Sybil.

“No wonder my parents didn’t like you!” And suddenly, silence fell over the diners.