Since we'll be celebrating Purim on Sunday, and since it's in a great part about fun and laughter, I thought I'd share with you a story that happened to me today.
When we just got back from our morning walk, I heard footsteps outside that definitely didn't belong to my husband, and someone pressing the door handle. Naturally, I did what any sensible mother living in a remote place with two little children would do: I dashed to the door, slammed it shut with my shoulder, locked it, and shouted, "who is it?" in a tone that clearly implied, "I have a weapon and won't hesitate to use it."
"I'm looking for the T. family," said the man. I looked through the eyehole; my unexpected visitor was at least two meters tall and about as wide. I have definitely never seen him before.
"How can I help you?" I asked through the door, a little more politely.
"I'm looking for some fresh goat milk," he said. "My son has mouth sores, and I've been told raw goat milk can help."
I peeped through the eyehole again. Then, perhaps a little belatedly, I noticed a woman standing behind the man, holding a small blond boy in her arms. Finally deciding this man is unlikely to be a murderer, I opened the door.
"I'm sorry," I said, "but our goats have not kidded yet."
"Oh, I'm not looking for kids," he smiled brightly, "just some milk."
"But you see," I patiently explained, "goats are like humans in that way. First they have babies, and then there is milk."
I wished him the best of luck in obtaining raw goat milk elsewhere, and gave him our phone number in case he needs some milk in the future and we happen to have it. I also wondered whether I should tell him to begin by knocking next time, instead of just trying to bang through the door, but thought better of it. I decided that from now on, I will simply lock the door as soon as we are all inside, without waiting even a millisecond.
Leaving you with wishes of an easy Fast of Esther and a happy Purim to all my Jewish readers,