Perri silently cheered for her son. For their chinuch. At least they’d gotten it right with one of their kids
Those first few minutes after serving the soup were the quietest of the whole Shabbos, Perri often thought. Tonight the silence felt even more pronounced: There had been nonstop talking since the men returned home from shul. Now, all she heard was spoons clinking and the occasional slurp from a little boy (or a big one who should know better).
“Delicious soup,” Tatty said, first to finish.
“Can I bring you some more?” Perri swiftly offered.
Tatty avoided Mommy’s eyes. “That would be great. Just not a full bowl.”
“And no kneidel this time,” Mommy added as she grabbed the container of bright yellow soup nuts and very intentionally handed it to Shloimy. “Here, Shloimele, send this down to the end of the table, to the little kids. There’s more food coming, remember?”
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