"If anybody did want such a shidduch, then you’d know there was some major problem with the girl”
Friday morning.
Yanky approached his parents’ building, his hands full of bulging grocery bags. Along with his own family’s shopping, he had picked up a few items for his mother, and he was bringing them to her before heading home.
In a corner of the building’s front yard he saw Meir, rather desperately rocking his twins’ double carriage. He’d come in for the bar mitzvah and was staying for Shabbos. A ray of winter sunshine played upon the pink blankets.
“Stop rocking them, that one doesn’t want to go to sleep,” said Yanky, pointing to the twin to his left. He had no idea who was who.
“Her name is Shiffy, not ‘that one.’ And what am I supposed to do — split the carriage in two? Chani wants to sleep, so Shiffy will have to put up with the rocking.”
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