He sat down on the couch heavily. He was a baby… but he couldn’t be. He needed to grow up. Like, yesterday
“H
ashem Yitbarach tamid oheiv oti….”
He grabbed the broom and shredded it with some air guitar. “Od yoter tov, v’od yoter tov….”
Ah, good song. He’d found that if he turned some rocking music on over the Bluetooth speakers, he got a whole lot more housework done. Estee was out with her friends, catching up on “girl time,” and he realized that while his body was screaming for a bein hasedorim nap, the correct course of action was to clear off the dining room table and rinse the dishes in the name of making his wife happy.
He thought about calling his mother and schmoozing with her as he soaped plates, but it would probably just slow him down.
He was genuinely enjoying having his parents nearby. Ma kept her fridge and cookie jar stocked for whenever they popped by — she’d never visit them uninvited. He’d never spent this much alone time with his father, carpooling back and forth from Rabbi Wagschal’s events, and the two of them were really making an impact at Kol Habanim.
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