*War Bunnies | Maya Tevet Dayan | 6 Minutes on Friday | March 27, 2026*
This week, in the many nights and days of war, the hours without hours, the headlines, and the stretching time, I joined a Facebook group for bunny lovers. Why did I do that? Do I raise a bunny? No. Have I ever considered raising a bunny? No. Do I even like bunnies? The way everyone likes them, in children’s books and fairy tales. Do I like them enough to be in a group of people who raise them at home?
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I stopped tormenting myself with questions, and I joined. It was a state of mind, of course: I wanted to read anything that was not war and was bunnies instead. I wanted to learn what bunnies. Did you know that until the age of eight months they eat alfalfa, and only then are gradually introduced to leafy greens and pellets? Which means that the whole carrot story, it turns out, should remain a once-a-week treat!
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I learned that bunnies like to play in burrows, like cats, and with hay balls, and in mazes, and to chew. Every couple of months you have to trim their nails - listen to this - wrap them in a towel like a burrito, shine a flashlight on the tiny paw, if needed expose the nail with a cotton swab, and cut.
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Bunnies must not be bathed. Water puts them into anxiety and they can die of fear. They need an exotic vet, because everything about them is exotic. And even an Israeli garden is dangerous for them - it’s too hot, and there are parasites and snakes and who knows what else. At home, though, they can live with dogs or cats. And with them too, a male mostly gets along with a female, and two males will definitely kill each other.
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Which brings me back to the war.
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This week I asked on Facebook: what is the lowest point you’ve reached in the war? I didn’t mention my bunnies, of course - why would I - I just asked to hear. And the 300 responses that came in I’m bringing here, grouped into a few main categories.
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The most popular category is sugar.
👉🏻“We had cookies for breakfast.”
👉🏻“Dessert for my grandson before lunch.”
👉🏻“A popsicle for breakfast.”
👉🏻“Purim gift baskets scattered across breakfast, lunch, dinner - just don’t expect me to cook anything.”
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👉🏻“A day that started with a burekas for breakfast, McDonald’s for lunch, and pizza for dinner. And in between snacks, baking, hours of TV, skipping showers, sleep… aaaa.”
👉🏻Tal wrote: “Dinner that was basically a huge bowl of snacks. I suggested they dip in sour cream, for the protein and my conscience… they weren’t really into it.”
👉🏻And finally: “I ate potato chips for lunch with a Breezer, both from the Purim packages we got. And I’m a naturopath.”
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Other low points had to do with the sirens:
👉🏻“I said I wished there would be a siren so the kids would finally wake up. They’re over ten, it was around 9 a.m., and by the way there really was a siren and they got up.”
👉🏻“My partner told the kids there was an alert when there wasn’t, just to get them quickly into the safe room so they’d go to sleep :-)”
👉🏻“One of the harder thoughts, in a breaking moment - wishing there would be an alert now just to reset them from the fighting and crying. They actually enjoy going down to the shelter, it kind of creates a ‘fresh page’ at home.”
👉🏻“I woke my daughter because of ‘loud interceptions’ that turned out to be a truck unloading next door.”
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Here are a few low points of dysfunction:
👉🏻“I ran the same washing machine four times because I couldn’t remember to take it out and hang it.”
👉🏻“I left the house only once since the war began.”
“My daughter didn’t brush her hair for a week, we gave up. Enough fights over brushing teeth twice a day.”
👉🏻And Michal wrote: “I have one daughter who showers once a week because she’s afraid to leave the safe room, and another who isn’t afraid but every time she tries to do anything there’s a siren.”
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Some moments were about longing for quiet:
👉🏻“I went shopping today and stood in line at the butcher and let people pass me because I wanted a little more time of quiet without the kids 🤭😞”
👉🏻“Just now - my daughter woke up and asked me what time it is. I told her 4 a.m. and to go back to sleep. It’s 7:00.”
👉🏻“At the end of the day I checked my kids’ screen-time app and saw ten hours of screen…”
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There were low points about money:
👉🏻“I paid my little one to clean the building stairwell so she’d get off screens a bit, bribed her with some junk from a cheap shop so she’d leave the house with me… and I have a feeling we haven’t reached rock bottom yet.”
👉🏻“I paid my daughter 60 shekels to make me a stir-fry.”
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There’s of course so much more. I read everything they wrote, and somewhere, after hundreds of such confessions, I began to ask myself: are these really low points? I mean, how else are mothers and fathers supposed to function in a time of active war on the home front - a war in which the mothers and fathers and their children, the grandparents - all of us have become the front line of the war. And what does healthy food or screen limits or homework or groups that are not about rabbits have to do with anything right now? In other words, I began to see not mothers at their lowest, but hundreds of women taking on the familiar guilt, while somehow functioning, untrained, and surviving with children on days like these.
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The strongest home-front army in the world.
Masters of flexibility and functioning under pressure without sleep.
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And indeed, finally, after hundreds of responses, one arrived from a mother who wrote that her children go to sleep after midnight and don’t log in to any Zoom class, and then added: “I don’t feel this is a low point. On the contrary, I feel we are focused on what really matters - sleep and companionship as much as possible.”
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And to me, that was the essence of everything, at the end of this week.
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To her, and to all of us, I dedicate this poem by Rachel Halfi, which I also presented to the community of writers in my Season of Inspiration, and with which I end today, to remind us that sometimes what is considered a low point is in fact a moment of excellent parenting, in times of low:
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Love at McDonald’s by Rachel Halfi is brought here in Hebrew, because I couldn’t find a translation for it in English. It starts with the words: “I love my child at McDonald’s/
I love him terribly / Released from the heavy burdens of the kitchen / From the chilling responsibility of healthy nutrition / He devours a dripping double meat sandwich /And I chain-smoke French-fry cigarettes / He gulps down a gallon of Coca-Cola and I pour into my belly a third coffee…
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Here it is in Hebrew for those you who also read Hebrew:
*אהבה במֶקדוֹנַלד'ס / רחל חלפי*
אֲנִי אוֹהֶבֶת אֶת הַיֶּלֶד שֶׁלִּי בְּמֶקְדּוֹנַלְדְּ'ס
נוֹרָא אוֹהֶבֶת
מְשֻׁחְרֶרֶת מִמַּשְׂאוֹת מִטְבָּח חֲמוֹרִיִּים
מִן הָאַחֲרָיוּת הַמְצַמְרֶרֶת שֶׁל תְּזוּנָה בְּרִיאָה
הוּא טוֹרֵף דַּאבְּל סֶנְדְּוִיץ' שֶׁל בָּשָׂר נוֹטֵף
וַאֲנִי מְעַשֶּׁנֶת בְּשַׁרְשֶׁרֶת סִיגַרְיוֹת צִ'יפְּס
הוּא לוֹגֵם גָּלוֹן שֶׁל קוֹקָה וַאֲנִי מַגִּירָה אֶל בִּטְנִי קָפֶה שְׁלִישִׁי
פִּתְאֹם יֵשׁ לִי זְמַן לְהַבִּיט
יָשָׁר בְּעֵינָיו
פִּתְאֹם יֵשׁ לִי זְמַן לִכְתֹּב
אֶת הַוִּדּוּי הַקָּטָן הַזֶּה
כַּמָּה הַחֵטְא הַמְשֻׁתָּף
מְשַׁחְרֵר!
כַּמָּה הָעֵסֶק הַקּוֹסְמוֹפּוֹלִיטִי הַזֶּה
תּוֹרֵם לְהַרְגָּעַת הַתָּא הַמִּשְׁפַּחְתִּי!
בַּזְּגוּגִיּוֹת הַגְּדוֹלוֹת מִשְׁתַּקְּפִים
נֵאוֹנִים קְטַנִּים וְקָרִים
וּמִבַּעַד לָהֶן מְאוֹתֶתֶת הָעִיר
בִּידִידוּת
הַכֹּל
הַכֹּל נִרְאֶה כָּרֶגַע
בַּעַל-בְּרִית.
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Wishing us all Shabbat Shalom,
Maya Tevet Dayan