My three-year-old is making me religious

“HOW DO you make challah, Mummy?” Good question.

“Why don’t you tell me, darling. What ingredients do we need?” “Sugar, flour, eggs. What else?” I hazard a guess at oil.

“Now we mix it, Mummy”.

I don’t make challah; the one and only time I have was as part of a Shabbat UK Challah Bake a few years before my daughter was even born.

But this is the way things are going for me. I am becoming frummer by virtue of my children’s Jewish education. I’m not complaining, but it is a constant source of fascination and surprise to hear the things my daughter comes back from nursery talking about.

I didn’t go to a Jewish school and although I went to cheder and had a very traditional Jewish upbringing, I appreciate I have areas where I am lacking in knowledge or at least experience, even if that’s just in the youth group-festival songs-and-bensching sense.

My daughter will not have to mime her way through a group sing song when she goes to summer camp as a teenager and I have no doubt she will know how to bench before you can turn around and say “Birkat hamazon”.

This has become increasingly clear as she gets older and understands more— and is able to replicate more on her own, at home — but also over the last few weeks, as we sit sandwiched between Yom Tovim.

While I have heard her saying the Friday night prayers enthusiastically and with increasing accuracy for a while— she insists on it! — now each week of nursery sees her telling me something new she has learned. whether it is how to make challah (kind of), all about the bees who make the honey that we dip our apples into on Rosh Hashanah, or about a visit from the rabbi with a shofar for the children to blow.

I’m looking forward to learning more about succahs and Simchat Torah, through the eyes of a three year old over the next few weeks.

The joy on her face in the children’s service at Rosh Hashanah as toy Torah scrolls were passed around, songs were sung confidently, actions were made to We dip the apple in the honey and prayers were joined in with was a far cry from how I felt going to the children’s service when I was a child. Of course, this may also be down to differing levels of confidence; I was a shy child and so far my daughter seems to enjoy being up front and centre in any social gathering, religious or otherwise.

Sending her to a Jewish nursery was not my deliberate intention, but it also wasn’t something that I was opposed to. Through a combination of coincidences — location, Ofsted reports— her nursery was the best we came across, with the added bonus that it is Jewish.

Lots of the parents I speak to at the school gate are in a similar position: when we were growing up it was only the more religious children who went to faith schools, now we are choosing to send our children to them because of good educational results and a desire to make sure they are part of the community. A morning at cheder once a week doesn’t quite cut it any more.

I love that her religion is so naturally a part of her life at the moment so a shul service feels the same as a music class to her.

Her experience of the world includes a knowledge and an understanding of traditions and her heritage outside of the family traditions that my husband and I automatically bring to the table.

I already have wonderful memories of her lighting the candles with her grandmas, hands over her eyes, reciting the brachot (almost) perfectly.

Now I know that I’ll be moving into 5780 schepping Yom Tov nachas too. I just have to hope she lets me catch up a bit before asking any more difficult questions…

A morning at cheder doesn’t cut it any more ’