T
"What you throw in the laundry, by us is called clean. Where’s the garbage bag with the laundry? We’ll find something in there that’s not too dirty”
T
he women had all gone to the water park at Chofetz Chaim early in the morning, and Yanky was left in charge of his boys until midday. Getting them through the morning routine was no problem; they woke up refreshed after sleeping well in the country air, and Raizele had packed their clothes in neat bundles labeled with each child’s name and organized by day of the week.
At 8:15, Yanky gave his boys a quick up-and-down glance and said, “It looks like we’re all ready. Come, let’s go to davening.”
A quick succession of knocks interrupted them just as they headed toward the door. Yanky opened it, and there stood Nochumku, looking harried.
“Maybe you’ve got a spare shirt for my Avremi?” he said. “I can’t find one for him in the suitcase. We brought a lot of clothes, but I guess all his shirts got dirty already. And it’s better Raizele shouldn’t know,” he added, after pausing for a quick breath.
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