The room became suddenly quiet. Thirty mothers and daughters looked my way
Shira tumbled into the kitchen, clutching an olive green envelope. “Mom? I have a surprise.”
She pursed her lips, widened her eyes. The poor kid—an irrepressible drama queen—looked like she would pop. “A party for Mommies and children!” she finally burst, extracting the invitation with a stage-worthy flourish.
I scanned the text: A Tu B’Shvat mother-daughter crafts session on Sunday. Aha.
Quick! My good-mommy voice exhorted. Pretend this is exciting!
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