Every Friday night of my childhood, my sisters and I would line up in front of my father as he placed his hands on our heads and recited the priestly blessing. This is a tradition that continues to this day, even as my sisters and I are adults with children of our own. In my mind, my sisters and I were fairly well behaved during our blessing. I remember some pushing and shoving around whose turn it was to be in the middle (without a hand directly on your head) but otherwise, I remember us standing still to receive our blessing—although my parents might dispute that.
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