Z: As far as circumcision parties go, that was the best one I’ve ever been to.

She: It’s the only bris we’ve ever been to.

Z: When you said we were going to a party for your first cousin, once removed, I didn’t know that that’s what would be removed.

She: Laugh it up, Gentile Boy.

Z: If I had any complaints, it’s that I was hoping for more comedy. If ever there was an event that’s ripe for jokes, it’s a bris.

She: The mohel even commented on that. He said it’s a unique, special celebration … that’s also ripe for many jokes.

Z: As a mohel and a urologist, he better have a sense of humor. I wish I could have been in that meeting with his career counselor.

She: It takes a matzo, matzo man to be a mohel.

Z: And I’m the bad guy here?

She: I have to admit, I was a little apprehensive about the ceremony. But I was pleasantly surprised it wasn’t nearly as painful as I thought it would be.

Z: You weren’t the 8-day-old baby. Every man in the room cringed and crossed his legs when we heard those first little squeals.

She: Which the baby got over very quickly, unlike you big babies. Uncle Henry put his sommelier skills to good use, and opened a good bottle of wine for my baby cousin.

Z: He could have shared. And that’s first cousin, once removed. Although, wouldn’t he be twice removed now?

She: Go ahead. Get them all out.

Z: I never knew that the bris always had to happen when the baby turned 8 days old. I’m going to start a new business, selling fake IDs to babies who say they’re 12 days old. Gold mine.

She: Cute.

Z: I went up after the ceremony and asked the baby if it hurt. He said, “Did it hurt? Heck, yeah. The doctor said I won’t even be able to walk for another year!”

She: He …

Z: I talked to the mohel afterward. He said he was retiring. Said he just can’t cut it anymore.

She: … did …

Z: He worked hard. I sure hope he got a big tip.

She: … not. All those jokes sound stolen. And it was a lovely party.

Z: Sure. But now I’m thinking I want a party for all my procedures. Next time I’m having something removed, I want an officiant, deli and presents. It seems like the civilized thing to do.

She: On second thought, I don’t know why anyone thought it was a good idea to invite you to a bris.

Z: We almost didn’t even make it. I’m still not sure why I ever trust you with directions. Especially once I heard that we were going to a place called Hidden Hills. That should have been my first clue.

She: I … I’m not even going to defend my sense of direction, other than to blame my parents.

Z: Is this some other secret Jewish-lite ceremony, where you have your sense of direction removed?

She: Let’s just say that it wouldn’t be a family trip if there wasn’t at least one fight over being lost.

Z: I’m not sure which was more scarring to our child; going to a circumcision or the getting-lost fight.

She: He completely ignored both of them. Fortunately for him and the parents of his 4-year-old second cousin, he was perfectly happy to play truck with the kid, and happily tune out the bris.

Z: He ignored two things that made him uncomfortable? In one day? That’s my boy. That’s almost as good as making jokes about them.

She: Yes, dear.

— Share your bris briefs with She and Z by emailing leslie@lesliedinaberg.com. And follow them on Twitter: @lesliedinaberg. Click here for previous She Said, Z Said columns.