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When Rabbi Greenberg first talked to Finn and Puck about adopting Miriam’s baby, everything was so abstract, but then Eloise was born, and everything suddenly became concrete. Nothing about being a dad has been quite what Finn expected, not from the way he felt the first time held Eloise, not how it felt to bring her home and know she was theirs forever, or how he’s felt with each one of Eloise’s milestones, and not how it feels now that he and Puck are getting ready for Eloise’s first Hanukkah.
“Since she can chew on the baby menorah, she won’t think she can chew on the real candles, right?” Puck says.
Eloise happily gums the plush shamash while Finn gently works the moisturizer into her curls. “I think she can’t reach the real menorah, so she’s probably fine,” he says.
“She’s enterprising. Aren’t you?” Puck says to Eloise. “Are you ready for the sun to set?”
Eloise grins around the now-soggy shamash, but doesn’t otherwise give any indication she knows what sunset is. Finn carefully untangles the last snarl in Eloise’s hair, letting the short curl spring back into shape, then stands up, leaving her sitting on the floor next to Puck.
“Gotta go check the brisket so I don’t burn it this time,” Finn says, giving Puck a quick kiss before walking into the kitchen. Nothing smells like smoke or scorched meat, which is promising, at least.
“We’d still eat it, wouldn’t we?” Puck says, his voice getting closer until he’s standing just inside the kitchen holding Eloise. “Or, well, I’d still eat it. You just get applesauce this year, Eloise.”
“Lucky for all of us, she likes applesauce,” Finn says. He opens the oven and appraises his brisket, which definitely looks on the well-done end of cooked, but isn’t burnt yet. He slips on the stormtrooper oven mitts Puck gave him for his most recent birthday and pulls the brisket out of the oven.
“It’s a perk for her of being six whole months old. The perk for us is she’s sleeping longer at a stretch,” Puck says. “And she can actually sit up to open her Hanukkah presents.”
“Even if she’d still rather eat the paper than play with her actual present.”
“She’ll learn,” Puck says, kissing Eloise’s forehead. “And either way, she’ll like the party at temple later in the week.”
“Did you see the dress Mom sent for her?” Finn asks. “I hung it up next to the one from Jake, so we can decide which one she should wear to the party.”
“We’re going to have to find her a bigger social circle, so she has more reasons to dress up,” Puck says. “I guess I could try that one playgroup again in January. Maybe there are some new members who aren’t all women fifteen years older than me.”
“Oh, hey, that reminds me! I found an adoptive parents group!” Finn says.
“Yeah? Here in Rockford?”
“Yeah, it’s called Parents With Pride, and they’re based right here in Rockford,” Finn says. He starts heating up the oil for the latkes Puck had mixed up while Finn was working on Eloise’s hair.
“Cool. Don’t get too close to the oil,” Puck says to Eloise. “We’ll make even more friends after Hanukkah’s over.”
“I think they’re having another meeting in January. We’ll get to start 2017 with lots of new people for Eloise to play with, won’t we, chubbyfeets?” Finn says to Eloise. Eloise smiles and crams the plush shamash back into her mouth again.
Puck grins at Eloise, then at Finn. “This is all pretty awesome.”
“Well, we knew we were moving to Rockford for a reason. Now we just have even more reasons,” Finn says, as he starts patting Puck’s latke mix into little potato patties that he can place in the oil. “Okay, let’s see if I can make latkes happen!”
“I don’t think you can really mess them up too much,” Puck says. He gets one of Eloise’s bottles out of the refrigerator and shakes it a couple of times. “And, well, yeah, but I mean all of it.”
“Yeah, it is,” Finn agrees. “Okay. Moment of truth.” He drops the first latke into the oil.
“That’s your moment of truth?” Puck says, sitting down as he offers Eloise the bottle. “They sound right.”
“It’s a test of my Jewishness. If I fail at latkes, I fail at Judaism.”
“I think enough time’s passed that you don’t get to fail at Judaism now,” Puck says. “You’d just have to practice the latkes more. Eloise says you’re Jewish enough, see?”
“Is that right, Eloise? Am I latke-approved?” Finn asks, as he adds more latkes to the pan.
Eloise waves her soggy shamash at Finn and says, “Da da da da!”
“That’s right, that’s Dada,” Puck tells her. “He’s Eloise and latke-approved, huh?”
“Guess that’s the only approval I really need,” Finn says. He picks up the slotted spoon and starts fishing the first latke out of the oil. “Okay, looks like this batch it ready.”
“Only?” Puck says. “Huh.”
“I already know you approve of me. You married me, didn’t you?”
Puck smiles a little. “I remember something like that, yeah.”
“And you know I approve of you, because I converted so hard that now I’m a latke expert,” Finn says, gesturing to his actually pretty perfect-looking latkes.
“I’ll get you a yarmulke embroidered with that,” Puck says. “Ready to watch us light the candles, Eloise?”
“That’ll give the latkes a little time to cool,” Finn says. He reaches for Eloise, taking her from Puck’s arms. “You light, we’ll watch.”
“Okay.” Puck stands up and then leans in to kiss Finn. “I mean it. This whole thing, you, her, it’s so awesome.”
Finn smiles at Puck. “Things are pretty damn great for us, aren’t they?”
“Yeah, they are.” Puck kisses Finn again, then Eloise’s cheek. “Happy Hanukkah, you two.”
“Happy Hanukkah right back at you.”