Everyone can use the extra hand, but you beat me to it, and now I’m drowning
Summer heat, vacation schedule, bored kids running wild while I tried cooking for Shabbos = supper in the park.
I packed up food and drinks, cleaned faces, changed Yoni’s diaper, grabbed a granola bar for myself, and 20 minutes later, we were heading to the only shady bench in the nearby park.
Of course, it was full already. I perched on the edge of the next bench over, let the kids run off to find their friends, and craned my head to tune in to the conversation.
“…never do this! My seminary girl took the kids out every week while I made Shabbos,” a woman I vaguely recognized was saying.
Create a free account to keep reading.
