It’s ’cos we’re weird, okay? Everyone goes to school. Just not us

Red, red.

Orange, orange.

Green… blue?

“Hmm?” I ask Shuki, holding the two cards side by side. “Are they the same color?”

He giggles and switches the green for the other blue card, lining up the pair with his other sets.

“Good!” I enthuse. “Now tell me what color that is?”

“Blue!” he squeals, and we clap together. He tumbles into my arms, laughing.

“Ima?” Shari taps my shoulder. A fine mist of flour lands on the floor beside me. “We’re out of chocolate chips.”

Chocolate chips. Right, I’d left Shari in the kitchen, decoding some fractions to follow the steps of a recipe. Time to switch tracks.

“Grocery time!” I announce, and Shuki abandons the card game gleefully to run for the door.

Michali looks up from the table where she’s been adding and subtracting with blocks while I practiced colors with Shuki.

“Finish up, Mich, and then meet us at the front door.”

I turn to the twins, who are busy at the dining room table, along with every craft supply I own. “How are the parshah projects coming along?”

“Ooooh, don’t look!” Hudi shrieks, just as Hodaya says, “Come see, Ima!”

“Hey, don’t come, it’s a surprise!” Hudi growls at his twin.

“Why? I want to show Ima. It’s pretty!” Hodaya retorts.

“Hudi, Hodaya, we’re going to the grocery, we’ll continue your dioramas later, okay?”

I grab a pen and paper to draw up a quick list in clear, bold letters — the twins can find the items in a scavenger hunt-like activity. I’ll bring a notebook for Michali so she can write down numbers that she spots, see if she finds them all, 1-10. Shari can work out what things cost and find the right change to pay. And Shuki’s too young for formal activities in the grocery store, but we’ll keep on practicing colors, I’ll ask him what different items are. And they’ll all choose a treat at the end. Shari gets her chocolate chips, everyone has a field trip, and bonus, it’s educational, an all-around win.

Everyone… but wait, I haven’t accounted for Yirmi. Come to think of it, I haven’t seen him since he point-blank refused to try the science experiment kit I ordered.

“I know what happens when you mix the ingredients, I’m not interested in babyish activities,” he’d mumbled when I showed him the box.

Yirmi. He’s my second-oldest, after Shari. Bright, even gifted, but somehow, recently, he’s just not interested in any of the fun activities I prepare. He’ll do pages in his workbook as fast as possible and then simply disengage.

I leave Shari helping the little ones into their coats and knock on Yirmi’s door. With an effort, I muster up a smile. “Yirm. We’re going to the grocery, you coming?”

He wrinkles his nose. “Nah, I wanna stay home and read.”

I hesitate. He won’t be alone, Michoel is downstairs working in his office, but… why doesn’t he want to come along?

The store is perfectly quiet; midmorning on a school day is a great time to shop. A few women pushing carts or strollers, an older man consulting a list, frowning.

I send Hudi and Hodaya to the produce aisle with their list, and Shari heads off to find the chocolate chips. I turn my attention to Michali and Shuki, and we start pointing out numbers and colors. Everything’s more exciting on a trip; it’s the best way for a child to learn.

A woman with a long auburn sheitel passes by, gives me a funny look. I smile pleasantly and go right on. So people aren’t used to seeing a mother turning a shopping trip into an educational experience. What do I care?

At the checkout counter, I hand Shari my purse, and she roots through to find the bills and coins that add up to exactly $33.71. Auburn Lady is behind us, and she sighs deeply when Shari fumbles for the right change.

“We’ll just be a minute,” I tell her, nicely but firmly.

She rolls her eyes. “Don’t your kids go to school?”

I lift my head proudly. “No,” I say.