Last night, as I was busy preparing some apple strudel for Succos, I noticed that it was already 8:30 - and that my kids were still running around in the basement playroom, screaming like a bunch of crazed warriors. I frantically called my husband from the den, where he was involved in an urgent game of Tetris, and pleaded with him to gather up our wild young ones and to ship them off to bed.

I went back to my strudel, thinking all was under control, when I overheard the following exchange between my 5-year-old son, already in bed, and my beloved husband, already back in Tetrisland:

"Taaa ..."

"What?"

"I'm thirsty. Can you bring me a drink of water?"

"No. You had your chance. Lights out."

Five minutes later, I heard:

"Taaaaaaaaaa ..."

"WHAT?"

"I'm THIRSTY. Can I have a drink of water?!"

"I told you NO! If you ask again, I'll have to potch you!"

Five minutes later:

"Taaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa ..."

"WHAT??!!"

"When you come in to potch me, can you bring me a drink of water?"

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