Cousins

A couple of weeks ago Sam acquired a cousin.
My brother and his wife had their baby.  A little boy named Gabriel Solomon.  They're calling him Gavi (it's a short 'a' like in car).  Gavi is the diminutive of the Hebrew form of Gabriel, which is Gavriel (again, short 'a' like in bar).
I went into the northern suburbs of Chicago for the bris.  A bris (rhymes with kiss) is the Jewish ritual of circumcision.  By Jewish law it has to be done on the eighth day after the birth.  There may be an exception to that if it's the Sabbath, but I'm not sure.  Anyhow, the day of the bris is not flexible.  So, I had to get from Madison to the northern 'burbs of Chicago by 10 AM on a weekday.
I E-mailed my brother to tell him I was coming, but I might be late.  He responded asking me to please be on time because I'm the only one likely to be able to prevent him from killing the mohel if he lost it.
The mohel (pronounced 'moil', rhymes with boil) is the guy that does the ritual circumcision.
That struck me as a bit odd.
I've gone to a fair number of these things, and I've never heard anyone worry about the risk of Dad attacking the mohel.
So I wrote this poem for my brother:

Don't annoy the mohel
He has important work to do
Don't distract him from his tohel
He might take an extra inch or two
Don't antagonize the mohel and instigate derision
Or your son will have to go through life
With a sloppy circumcision
Then he'll be reminded of his bris
Every time he goes to take a piss
Remember
In all matters of the foreskin
To behave so that the boy ends up with moreskin

I'm no Shel Silverstein, but the mohel loved the poem and asked if he could use it on his website.
Why does the mohel have pictures of watches on his website?
You have something better maybe he should have pictures of on his website?

Anyhow, I went to the bris.  It was very nice, as those things go.
The following weekend Kate and I drove into Chicago together with Sam so that Sam could meet his cousin Gavi.
It's wise, in retrospect, not to get too excited about the introduction of the thirteen week old to his two week old cousin.  It goes like this:

Grandma:  Sam, this is your cousin Gavi.
Sam:

Grandma:  Gavi, this is your cousin Sam.
Gavi:

So, that was sort of anti-climactic.  In a few years I've no doubt they'll play together, but for the foreseeable future they'll sort of just lump next to each other.

We were there for Father's day.  My brother's wife gave me a framed photo of all four kids, mine, their's, and the two that belong to the other brother, so that was nice.
Kate took this blog and did something that converted it to a hardbound book.  I'm supposed to edit it, and then we can actually publish it, with an ISBN  number and all the publishing trimmings.  When that's done we can get copies for anybody that wants one, assuming anyone does.
Next week we'll talk about the nanny...