I made a fabulous discovery this past week.
Fancy Nancy is Jewish.
(If you don’t know who Fancy Nancy is, go get yourself a preschool-aged girl. Hang out with her for a few hours, and you’ll learn.)
In case you were expecting something more exciting than Fancy Nancy, let me remind you that I live with a toddler and a one-year old. The most excitement we get around here is a new Caillou episode or a poopy diaper that didn’t leak.
Anyway, back to what I was saying. Oh, yes, Fancy Nancy is a MOT. I have the proof. Or at least the evidence.
But first, let’s talk about why this is important. I get major points in the ongoing game of “Is she/he a Jew?” (I also get points for knowing that although Elvis was technically Jewish, he once worked as a Shabbos goy for a Jewish family.) Anyway, I need all the points I can get—I’m competing against my husband, my family, and of course, every other Jew on the planet. (Don’t tell me you’ve never wandered the mall, picking out the Jews. You totally have.)
Second, I’m eager to find Jewish books other than the ones the PJ Library sends me. Don’t get me wrong, the PJ Library is fantastic, and if you haven’t already signed up, you should do so immediately. But we have enough Hannukah and Passover books, enough books about life back in the shtetl. I’m looking for stories that reflect our lives now, books in which the family has funny sounding names, and maybe they don’t eat pork, but they do have friends who aren’t Jewish and they live a diaspora life, balancing Jewish living with American culture. I’m looking for stories about sibling rivalry and tantrums and exhausted parents who also happen to be Jewish. That’s the story of my life, much more so than a rhyming book about making hamentashen for Purim. (Mama doesn’t cook, remember?)
That’s why I was so excited when I realized Fancy Nancy was Jewish.
Ok, on to the evidence. Read the rest of this entry →