It was at this moment that, I’m ashamed to say, I busted out the big guns
A half hour later, my husband, the responsible one, looked up from the souvenir Lego set (not Israel-themed, but five-year-old boys prefer what they prefer) he was putting together with my son and scanned the living room, a frown gathering. “Do you see my backpack? I want to put away the passports,” he said. I couldn’t see it. He couldn’t see it. Long story short: He’d left it in the back of the random yellow cab we hailed off the JFK taxi line. Long story shorter: It also contained his tefillin and wallet.
It was at this moment that, I’m ashamed to say, I busted out the big guns. “Gather round, children,” I called out in a honeyed morah voice that I’d never heard myself use before. “This is a huge opportunity for—”
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