We arrived at the club 40 minutes before the show started. Of course, the whole seat was already there, gaining on the free gates • Mulick Tiger is learning the hard way

• The quiet before the storm // Photo: GettyImages

The five scariest words I can hear are "There is a free play at a youth club." It's always the same: a lot of suffering that comes with a lot of responsibility, but you can't get away, because "it's free" and it's "something to do with the kids," and "everyone goes."

We arrived at the club 40 minutes before the show started, as if we needed to get tickets to Derby in Bloomfield. Of course, the whole seat was already there, gaining on the free gates. When I let go of the control of the children for a moment, Oddi disappeared. I glanced around the lawn, only to find that all the children in the seat were low and with black hair, just like my child. I had no chance.

I walked around in the hustle and thought: I could be home now and lay on the couch with my laptop while the kids did what they wanted. True, they probably would have ruined the whole house, but at least they both would have survived. After a few minutes without the boy, where I was for some reason more relaxed than I was supposed to be, one of the mothers brought it to me: "I found it on the edge of the lawn." I smiled at her, but she just gave me a look of "you could have done a much better job," and left.

We went into the club only to find that things were not much better inside. All the disposable chairs - those for parents - had long since been seized, and the children, who were supposed to be sitting on mats, ran amok from side to side, with the coolest of them bouncing on bamboo, probably a preparation for an ATV at the age of 13.

Oddi went wild because he wanted his bimba at that moment, Naama walked away with a friend from the garden she found, and at this point the announcer announced: "The show is about to start. I ask the adults responsible for taking care of all the little ones next to them." At that moment, I longed for some responsible adult.

The play began, but nothing changed inside the hall. The show was just a backdrop for crying, running around, quarreling and throwing snacks in the distance. Some parents threw the responsibility of their child on another parent and went out to breathe. Fortunately I am not so mixed up in the seat, so I have no responsibility for any child I am under no obligation to keep him safe by law. On the other hand, well, I got stuck in this hell with the kids.

The show was coming to a close, and I still had no idea what it was. The actors bowed on all sides of the court, as if someone cared, and I gathered myself and the children, and together we began to make our way towards the exit. One of the mothers stuck to me right when I could already breathe a breath of freedom: "Did you see what it was? They promised coffee, but the coffee didn't come. They'll see what it is!"

Outside we met the event organizer, a tough woman who may have once been loved by someone. "How was?" a question. "Wonderful," replied the mother who only ten seconds ago threatened to show her what it was. One look at my worn face should have made it clear to the organizer that I shouldn't ask, but she couldn't resist. "You're the one who writes in the paper, right? Well, so you have something to tell your audience after today?"

"Yes," I answered. "By the way people maneuver their way out of a crowded event, you can tell who would have survived the Holocaust."