That last jump totally jarred my leg, which is weird, because, hello! Dancer!

Shimshon’s new tzitzis bounce every time he jumps on the trampoline, and we all sigh, watching him.

“Okay, he’s like not-regular cute,” Atara declares, and we all agree.

Babby is settled in a dining room chair we’d dragged out to the yard; Zeidy is hovering protectively over her, and both of them are clutching glasses of sparkling seltzer and shepping nachas.

Benny puts Effie on the trampoline next to Shimshon and we all crack up as the little uncle bounces once, causing the baby to fall right over. He’s so wrapped up against the cold, that he’s completely immobilized, and just lays there, whimpering, while we all double over.

Benny goes to rescue him.

“He gets his grace from you, Bellka,” Benny calls. I stick my tongue out at him and shiver while everyone laughs.

It’s legit freezing, and my little suede bomber jacket isn’t exactly keeping me warm.

Mommy catches my eye. “Go put on a real coat,” she says firmly, giving me a little push toward the door. I groan as I head inside, inwardly glad that Mommy is the sort of mother who cares if I’m cold. Atara’s mother is young and fun, but I can’t imagine her noticing if Atara’s shivering.

I hop up the stairs two at a time, grab my black puffer coat, and hop back down the stairs, jumping the last three.

“Ow!!!!!!!!”

That last jump totally jarred my leg, which is weird, because, hello! Dancer!

I stand there for a moment, rubbing my sore muscle, and then hobble back out to the festivities before I miss anything important.

***

“Ah, the after-party, where the real fun happens,” I say, inhaling the steam rising from my chai tea. The guests have left, the little kids are sleeping, and we’d all gathered around the dining room table for tea and leftover scissor-shaped cake. Zeidy places a slice of cake before Babby, and she waves it away. I smirk; all the adults in my family do this thing where they turn down dessert on principle and then eat it five minutes later.

I turn my attention to my own slice, and sure enough, when I look up, Babby is licking blue frosting off her fingers.

I meet Naftoli’s eyes, we both grin and look back down at our plates.

“So, Naftoli, when are you returning to yeshivah?” Babby asks, her clear voice ringing around the room.

Oh, boy, things just got awkward.

Benny clears his throat, Mommy starts fussing with the pillow propped behind Babby’s back, and Goldie starts rehashing the guest list loudly.

“And did you see that Chevi drove in all the way from Lakewood? And Mashie from Scranton! And she works full-time, so that’s really special!”

I nod emphatically, about to add in my own who’s who, but it’s Naftoli’s voice that breaks through all the chaos.

“I wish I knew, Babby. I wish I knew.” His cheeks are bright red, and his ears resemble two ripe tomatoes — a sure sign he’s uncomfortable.

Babby takes a sip of tea. “To throw out the best bochur in the yeshivah over something he didn’t do? I’ve never heard of such a thing. Morris, have you ever heard of such a thing?” She turns to Zeidy, eyes wide and alarmed.