M

ichal: Don’t you realize that all your gracious giving is causing pain and strain for us and our children?

Motti: We don’t judge you for not being able to give; please don’t judge us for what we have to give.

Michal

Yossi wanted a hoverboard.

“I understand, sweetie,” I said, for what felt like the tenth time. “It’s hard when your friends have something and you don’t. But it’s not something we can afford right now.”

Yossi was my oldest, at the beginning of eighth grade, and suddenly issues like money and brands and quality and what everyone else is buying or doing seemed to matter a whole lot.

He scowled. “It’s not fair. All the kids in my class have one. It’s so dumb to be the only one without it.”

I felt bad for him, I really did, but last month it was a new knapsack and the week before it was brand-name sneakers, of all things. We’d compromised on those, tried to give him something to make him feel we cared about his needs, but a hoverboard just wasn’t within our budget. And I couldn’t imagine that every other boy in his grade could afford it, either.

“Everyone? Or just a few boys?”

Yossi shrugged. “Almost everyone. Ariel got it first and now everyone’s getting. It’s so nerdy to ride a bike.”

“Why?” I asked Shua later, when the kids were finally asleep. “Why do people have to follow these trends? It’s one thing when the richest kid in the class has it, but it becomes a real peer pressure when there’s ten of them.”

If Ariel Goldman were the only one with a hoverboard, we wouldn’t have a problem explaining it to Yossi. The Goldmans are probably the wealthiest family in town, most of the mosdos in the city are supported by Motti Goldman, and he could afford to buy his kid a new hoverboard any day of the week. But we couldn’t, and I didn’t think we were alone there.

Shua went for the practical approach. “Tell Yossi he can use some of his bar mitzvah money if he wants a hoverboard. I bet that’s what his classmates are all doing, anyway.”

When I relayed the message, Yossi wasn’t happy. But that wasn’t anything new for him when the situation had anything to do with Ariel Goldman.

In the end, he did buy himself a hoverboard, which delighted his younger brothers, although he didn’t let them try it out for too long.

“It’s not a good one,” he complained. “Ariel and the other guys have better ones. With lights and stuff.”

I made a sympathetic noise. It really wasn’t fun, being on the receiving end of peer pressure. I wished that something could change. Couldn’t the school do anything about it?

“I think it’s just a matter of learning to live with it,” Shua said.

We were sitting down to prepare Chanukah gifts. Three sons, three rebbeim, three neat envelopes with a nice letter and $100 bill.

“I wish I knew how to explain that to Yossi.”

Yossi sauntered in just then. Shua handed him an envelope. “This is for Rabbi Stern, will you give it to him tomorrow?”

“Did you give your rebbi the envelope?” I asked Yossi, immediately when he came home. He made a face.

“Yeah, I did. Everyone had envelopes for him. Did we give him a gift inside?”

I was taken aback. “Were the boys in your grade talking about giving gifts?”

Yossi shrugged. “No. But I’m sure Ariel’s had something special inside, because Rebbi gave him such a nice thank-you, and when I gave him the envelope, he just said, ‘Shkoyach to your parents,’ all quietly, like he doesn’t really care about it.”

“I think you might be reading too much into that,” I told Yossi, but inside I wondered. Were the Goldmans setting the bar too high again? And would it affect how the rebbi treated his talmidim? How could our $100 compare with a $500 gift certificate to a silver store, for example?

“A good rebbi wouldn’t let it affect how he treats his students,” Shua said confidently. “Don’t worry about it, Michal. We gave what we could, it was a nice gift, within reason and within the norm. Let’s not take things out of proportion.”

***