Well, “it was a banner f*ckin’ year at the old Bender family” (Breakfast Club).
In January, we celebrated Saul’s mom’s 80th birthday at a ranch in Arizona because all of us city slicker Jews enjoy ridin’ horses, ropin’ steers, and shootin’ queers, I mean guns. In July, we disavowed our loved ones in Israel and instead went to Italy where we stuffed ourselves with gelato and urinated on the walls of the Vatican. In November, we hosted family for Thanksgiving, played Monopoly by the fire, and fought relentlessly over whether or not someone who passes GO should collect $200 if they don’t ask for the money. In December, we celebrated the Boss’ parents’ 75th birthdays in Mexico with a group of fifteen war-mongering Israelis, nine ignorant Americans, and one handsome, homosexual Frenchman. The private pool, the sandy beach, the sunny 83° days, the bowls of guacamole, the stunning cenotes, and the giant iguanas were decent, but the trip was nearly ruined by the fact that the hot tub somehow - unfortunately, inexplicably, outrageously - wouldn’t get hotter than 93°.
The rest of the year was an absolute pleasure: dragging ass to soccer games on the South Side, suffocating at humid swim meets in Indiana, and dying of boredom at gymnastics meets in Wisconsin. We also enjoyed basketball games with 37 turnovers* in freezing gyms, baseball games with four strike-outs at mosquito-infested parks, and, of course, tennis matches in sweltering summer heat that inevitably ended in tears and defeat. We had exciting Family Movie Nights starting with distraction and ending in disappointment, delicious family dinners starting with teasing and ending in tears, and exhilarating ping-pong tournaments starting with rancor and ending in rage. This was our first year without an afternoon baby sitter, so the latch-key kids came home from school by themselves and did exactly what they were supposed to do: leave their unfinished, warm lunch in their lunch bag, leave their rancid lunch bag inside their backpack, leave their filthy backpack on top of the kitchen counter, eat a healthy snack of cookies and popcorn on the couch, and watch Netflix before doing their homework and practicing piano.
It was a year of change for the Boss, as she enthusiastically “retired” in June but somehow kept working with her former and current employer. She also spent many hours on a currently non-existent private practice, glommed on to a project with a former task-master from Colorado, and took days-long, family-abandoning work trips to Millfield, Ohio and other stunning locales. The Boss has also started working out two, sometimes three, times per week. We’re so proud of her for winning battle after battle against menopause even though she is clearly losing the war. The Boss also continues to attend a monthly book club, cook five meals a week, do the lion’s share of the laundry, take care of the bills, buy the birthday gifts, and burden herself with as heavy of a “mental load” as possible to ensure her martyr-like claims of “mental load” are valid. Every so often, the Boss lets down her hair with a second glass of wine which is fun for a while but invariably ends in a headache and an absence of carnal exploration.
Panini had her best year-to-date. She repeated as city champion at #2 singles and was one win and many tears away from making it to state. She is also the former and future captain of the Varsity basketball team, having been temporarily stripped of the honor after incorrectly subbing into a game and pouting. In the spring, Panini earned a 5 on the AP Lang and AP Gov exams and got all A’s for the first time in her until-now-underwhelming high school career. Over the summer, Panini got her first job and, after working really super duper hard as a part-time hostess and food runner, was laid off in August. In October, Panini and her friends broke the record for skimpiest Halloween costumes ever. All of Panini’s hard work paid off in November when somehow - miraculously, unbelievably, inexplicably - she was accepted to Tulane University for the fall of 2026 where she plans to major in Biology, drink heavily, and not play on the tennis team.
OG’s year was also one for the books. She qualified for regionals in gymnastics last spring, moved from Gold to Platinum after only one year of competition, and would have progressed significantly faster this fall if she hadn’t missed so many practices because she was behind on her AP Chem homework. Speaking of school, OG continues to crush it. In her first semester of high school, she took a bunch of tough courses and earned all A’s as a result of her unrelenting determination, crippling anxiety, irrational fear, and nearly 20 hours spent obsessively recording hand-written, serial-killer-type notes on manila folders. OG also made some fast cash as a babysitter, extended her streak on her American Sign Language app, and spent lots of quality time at home on Saturday evenings with mommy and daddy after abandoning her middle school crew who, as you may remember from a previous post, suck.
Boni continues to shine bright. She lives at the intersection of art and science, producing detailed, colorful “foldables” of soil erosion, imaginative abstract doodles of nothing, and home-made science projects involving slime, electrodes, primary colors, frustration, screaming, and slammed doors. Boni is also an outstanding athlete. She played soccer in the fall and spring, played basketball with her friends in the winter, and scored a record number of goals/points across the three seasons: zero. Boni’s best sport, however, is swimming. This year, after leaving her park district swim team, which is half a mile down the road and costs $50 for three months, and joining a private swim club, which is a 35-minute commute and costs $900 for three months, she worked really super duper hard and didn’t improve her times by a single second. Boni also got her first boyfriend this year, a cute little boy from summer camp named Elliott. They sent each other texts and even went to the movies where Elliott’s Milk Duds were mysteriously poisoned and he died.
Not to brag, but Broosevelt had the best year any 11-year-old boy has ever had. He’s just a happy-go-lucky kid. He loved playing on multiple basketball teams and wasn’t bothered at all by averaging as many turnovers as he did points. He loved playing on multiple soccer teams and wasn’t bothered at all by getting shut out and barely touching the ball. He loved playing on multiple baseball teams and wasn’t bothered at all by walking six guys in one inning. The “rizz” is also strong with Young Broosevelt: There is a cute little lady in his grade who, sources claim, has a crush on him. Broosevelt continues to play hard to get though, and when she and her friends knock on our front door, he uses sick-ass lines like, “What do you want?” Broosevelt keeps his skin from getting dry by avoiding showers, avoids excessive fluoride intake by not brushing his teeth, and prides himself on going days without any fruits or vegetables, subsisting on nothing more than milk, Froot Loops, and lollipops.
As expected, Saul had another earth-shattering year. Professionally, Saul continued to warp, I mean shape, the minds of hundreds of youth from across the city with biased readings, insincere conversations, and manipulative assignments. Known across the school as the toughest grader with a pathological dearth of empathy, Saul’s proudest moment was when one of his students began a speech with, “I hate Mr. Schmilden.” Socially, Saul continues to cull his community so only those with extraordinary patience and tolerance remain. Physically, Saul has never been better: He’s played about ten basketball games in the last six months, he has knee surgery scheduled for February, and he has a fat roll on his back. Cognitively, Saul is sharp as ever: After starting the 472-page The Emperor of All Maladies: A Biography of Cancer in September, he’s nearly finished. Most importantly, emotionally, Saul couldn’t be happier: The other day as he rested in shavasana on his yoga mat at the end of class, he cried.
F*ck 2026, I mean Happy New Year!!!
*I counted.