S unday morning. Dassi and I are in the kitchen together for one of those rare mother-daughter moments. I’m putting away the Shabbos dishes and she’s eating a bowl of cornflakes. “Ma” she says “can we talk for a minute?”
My 15-year-old actually wants to talk? I try not to let on how exciting this is. I nod slightly, meet her eyes. “Sure, what’s on your mind?”
S unday morning. Dassi and I are in the kitchen together for one of those rare mother-daughter moments. I’m putting away the Shabbos dishes and she’s eating a bowl of cornflakes. “Ma” she says “can we talk for a minute?”
This stops me cold. My 15-year-old actually wants to talk? I try not to let on how exciting this is. I nod slightly meet her eyes. “Sure what’s on your mind?” I say ever so casually as I slide down into a kitchen chair.
“Remember how when you started wearing tichels you said you weren’t going to wear them all the time? That you’d um still wear your sheitel once in a while?” she asks in an unsteady voice. “Yes ” I answer cautiously “I did say that.”
“Well can you please wear your sheitel to orientation and the school play? And for uh every event I have at school or where you’ll see other mothers and the teachers?” she blurts out.
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