Our portion in Olam Haba is contingent on the longing of a heart homeward-bound

Raising bilingual children, it’s often embarrassing when they put their linguistic feet in their mouths.
Because although they think they’re saying exactly what I told them to say, things often get lost in translation, making for mortifying moments.
I still remember the time my five-year-old told my mother that I couldn’t come to the phone because I was “sitting on my sisters’ kids” — her interpretation of babysitting.
I’ve had my kids tell their teachers that their “Mommy is shmenah” (fat, when I was expecting) and “ko’eset kol hazman” (getting angry all the time instead of kotevet — writing, my profession.)
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