Wrinkles are an honor when grandchildren count them. He has his four grandchildren from his son Meir. I, as he’s well aware, am a bubby to no one.
My husband isn’t asking for anything crazy. All he wants is for us to stay with his son Meir for Asher’s bar mitzvah Shabbos. And it does make sense, it’s a fifty-minute walk each way from our house.
Maybe the problem is me. Because staying with Meir means acting all Bubby for an entire Shabbos, and I can’t, I just can’t do it.
Maybe Chanoch’s snoring — better put, his roaring — isn’t his problem either. It definitely is mine.
Not that I’d sleep well otherwise. I’ve gotten enough sleep in my lifetime, throughout all the years that my friends were up at night with babies. My body doesn’t seem to need all this rest.
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