“You want to bring him back here to put away the ice cream? But he went to learn, Nechami!”

It’s early Shabbos afternoon, and all is tranquil and silent. The moshav is sleeping. Not a cow moos, not a bird chirps.

And on the kitchen counter sits a dripping carton of ice cream. Alongside it is a disposable white bowl, stained in pink. A teaspoon. A package of nut crunch, left open. A bottle of chocolate syrup, sticky. Together, they form an artistic composition with a clear message: Chanochi Bernfeld was here, treating himself to a midday snack.

“Chanochi!” Nechami calls out, breaking the tranquil silence. Bubbling lava is rising.

“He went out to learn,” says her mother-in-law, relaxing in the living room with the Hed Kevodah. “What’s the matter? Something urgent?”

Urgent?

Nechami goes to the front door, opens it, descends three steps. Glances at the path, looks up and down the street. She’ll make him come back here to learn, once and for all, how to leave a kitchen after taking a serving of ice cream. More importantly, how not to leave it.

“Nechami?” Her mother-in-law is standing in the doorway, her reading glasses still on her nose, wondering what on earth is wrong. “Do you want us to send somebody to shul to call him? And can I ask what happened?”

It hasn’t happened yet, dear mother-in-law, the one who raised my dear husband. It’s going to happen, unless I stop it. Eight years from now, a young woman will have a husband who’ll constantly be leaving messes in her kitchen. He won’t close the fridge. He’ll leave bags of pretzels open. He’ll leave apple cores and peach pits, plates, cups, and tissues on the arms of the sofa. The poor young woman will probably sit with her sisters, complaining about my failure to raise him properly.

“What happened?” her mother-in-law insists on knowing.

“Nothing major,” Nechami is forced to say, unable to think of a quick cover story. Some people are so smooth at lying — how do their minds work? She clears her throat a bit and tells the truth. “It’s just that we… we’re working on getting Chanochi to be, um, a little more grounded, if you know what I mean… We’ve made a few rules about… things he’s supposed to remember to do, and…”

“You mean the ice cream?” Her mother-in-law is astonished. “That’s what you want him to come back for? To clean up the kitchen?”

Nechami is blushing furiously.

“You want to bring him back here to put away the ice cream? But he went to learn, Nechami!”