On Shavuot, I rounded up my five youngest and headed to the park.
Now, if you're a parent, you get it. Five kids. On a holiday. Out in public. That’s not a trip — that’s a mission. There’s snacks, drama, sibling politics, and someone always needs the bathroom right now.
We had barely left the house when — boom! — my youngest triplet, Y., whacked his brother D. Full-on punch to the back.
. Who knows. Maybe D. dared to walk ahead. Maybe he took Y.’s water bottle. Maybe he breathed too loud. Either way, the meltdown came fast and furious.
D., rightfully furious, turned bright red. “I’m going home!” he yelled, and made a beeline toward First Avenue — toward the street. Two women nearby gasped. “He’s going into traffic!” they shouted.
.”
I caught up with D., sat down on some nearby steps, held him and asked, “Do you want to go home or do you want to go to the park?”
“I want to go home.”
“If you go home, we all have to go home,” I explained. “I can’t send some of you to the park and some of you home.”
But he insisted: “I want to go home.”
At that moment, his older sister stepped in. “D.,” she said, “If you let us go to the park, I’ll let you ride my scooter.”
And that’s all it took. We headed back toward the park, D. happily riding his sister’s scooter, crisis averted, and we spent the afternoon happily playing on the playground.
Honestly, that kind of thing happens all the time and is quickly forgotten. What stayed with me is what happened the next day.
The following morning, the day after Shavuot, I saw Y. and D. getting ready for their day. Not only were they getting along, Y. had made D. breakfast! Completely unprompted. No apology speech, no drama, no therapy session. Just a quiet, humble act of love.
And I thought: what an incredible parable.
We all mess up. We all have our “Yehuda moments” — when we snap, when we hit (maybe not physically, but emotionally), when we push someone away over something small. But what defines us isn’t the mistake. It’s the morning after.
What do we do once the storm has passed? Do we hold grudges? Do we double down in our pride? Or do we make breakfast?
Children have this magical ability to reset. To forgive. To repair.
If this had happened between adults, we’d be talking about years of therapy, resentment, and tension. But that’s the beauty of children—the incredible ability to forgive and move on. Something we can all learn from.