I was, to say the least, mystified. "What do you mean 'make Rosh Hashanah?'" I gasped. "Look, it's already scheduled up on the calendar! Just give it time, and it's going to come on the right day all by itself. What can we do for it? Besides, it's just August now!"

Little did I know that the kid had an agenda longer than some Shul presidents.

"You don't understand, Ma. We have to get into the mood and prepare ourselves. It takes 30 days," he explained.

Well, the only mood I was in recently was crabby. It had been a hot August preceded by a hot July. Camp had ended, and school hadn't begun. It was one hassle after another: do the laundry, do the dishes, chauffeur kids to friends with pools, the cook-shop-clean routine and to mediate those endless sibling squabbles!

"You don't understand, Ma. We have to get into the mood and prepare ourselves. It takes 30 days"

Glass shattered and fell haphazardly to a thundering ovation of "Mazel Tov!" by all the kids except for David who was frowning.

Where else but in a Jewish home do you say mazel-tov whenever you break something? I reflected. Just think about it -- one therapeutic mazel-tov takes the guilt out of being a klutz. Think of the savings in analyst fees, I pondered.

Klutziness runs in my family. I am hapless Harriet in my generation, the daughter of Calamity Clara in her generation. One day the poor woman bent down to retrieve a nickel in the grass, and the diamond in her engagement ring fell out of its setting, never to be seen again!

Did this woman, my role model, cry? Did she scream? Wail? Beat her breast in anguish? None of the above! With a mere "A bi-gezunt" she went on with her life. This was a lesson she had learned from her mother of blessed memory. Of course, her mother wasn't always coming up with serene maxims for all occasions.

I vividly remember the time my mother helped out in grandma's kitchen. My well intentioned mom was reaching for a piece of paper from the towel holder, and the whole rack fell off the wall, knocking the toaster off its shelf and into the sink which was full of dirty dishes and dishwater. The toaster had been plugged in and promptly shorted out. The largest dinner plate cracked in two, the entire roll of paper towels got wet and all had to be thrown out.

Where was I? Yes. David, my dutiful son, was picking up pieces of glass and interrupted my reverie. "Ma," he said, "This is a time for gentleness and reflection. The month before Rosh Hashanah should be devoted to personal stock-taking, and gestures of friendliness. You have just killed a bee."

"So I'll repent!" I flippantly replied with an unrepentant heart.

"Ah," said David. "Good, that is one of the three pillars of Rosh Hashanah preparation. Once the Elul month begins, we must repent, increase our prayer, and triple our charity."

"I know that!" I replied with irritation. "What does it have to do with gentleness, reflection, and bee killing?" I failed to see the kid's point here, let alone the connection.

"A better way to kill bees?" I screamed. "Ridiculous! I'd take off my shoe and do it again if I had to do it over"

Now I was really crabby. "A better way to kill bees?" I screamed. "Ridiculous! I'd take off my shoe and do it again if I had to do it over," I thundered. "I admit it would have been nice not to hit the window, but some things are inevitable. Besides, you were standing there holding a paper cup when I took aim. While you were busy doing gentleness and reflection, I saved your baby brother from a potentially painful sting." I felt self-righteous and heroic here. A real super mom, if you will!

"Ma," said the patient David. "I was holding the paper cup to trap the bee and escort it gently outside. But you struck it in haste. My plan did not include killing or broken glass, simply a better way."

He had me there.

The rest of his agenda had an intrinsic beauty in keeping with the spirit of Rosh Hashanah. For who isn't familiar with those wonderful round challahs this time of year? Round to symbolize the crown of the Divine kingdom. Round to symbolize the unity of all Israel in their holy purpose. Round as the coming full-circle of the the solemn celebration of a new year; not with drunkenness and noise making, but with loving kindness and good deeds. Not to mention good food.

David reminds me as I write: Although the bee has a stinger, it also helps us put honey on the table. So as we dip the apple in the honey, let us reflect on our deeds, and try to find a better way.

Reprinted with permission from www.Jewish-Holiday.com.