“What, they’ll sit with you on a park bench eating falafel, like street kids with no home?”

It was the last Erev Shabbos of the year. Raizele looked at the clock on the living room wall, pleased with her own efficiency. It was only eleven o’clock in the morning, and she’d already finished all the cooking and cleaning. All that was left was to wash the floors, and she had a whole unhurried hour to complete that task before Yanky and the children came home. She couldn’t help but pat herself on the back; her friends and sisters-in-law were always talking about their pressured Fridays, about the mad race up to the last minute and the total disarray until everything finally fell into place at candlelighting time. Raizele never really knew what they were talking about. In her house, the last Shabbos of the year, when everyone else aimed to actually be ready in time, was just like every other Friday. As usual, she had everything perfectly planned and under control.

She filled a pail with soapy water and poured small, bubbly puddles around the house. As she put down the pail, she heard Yanky’s voice at the door: “Hello!”

“You’re early!” she said, slightly dismayed at the interruption.

“Early? It’s twelve o’clock, my usual time on Fridays,” he said in mild surprise.

“It’s eleven,” she said, pointing at the living room clock.

“It’s twelve,” Yanky insisted. “That clock hasn’t been running properly, in case you haven’t noticed. We really should take it down.”

“Twelve o’clock?!” Raizele could hardly believe it. “So any minute the kids will be home, and all this water will turn to mud?”

Yanky volunteered to meet the children outside, buy them something to eat, and keep them occupied outdoors for the next hour, until the floor dried.

“What, they’ll sit with you on a park bench eating falafel, like street kids with no home?”

“That’s right, and everyone will think their mother neglects them,” Yanky teased.

Raizele smiled ruefully. “All right, I guess that’s the lesser of two evils.”

Yanky waited downstairs, and after two minutes, the boys arrived. First Nachumi, jumping happily as usual. After him came Eliyahu, responsible as always, holding Bentzi’s hand.

Eliyahu immediately sensed the deviation from routine. “Hi, Abba! Why are you waiting for us here?”

“We can’t go home yet,” Yanky told them. “Ima’s still washing the floor.”

“But my stomach is empty! It’s so, so hungry!” Bentzi piped up.

“That hungry, eh?”

“Yes,” said Nachumi. “Breakfast was a long time ago!”

“All right, so let’s go and look for something for you to eat,” said Yanky.

He took them to a nearby fast-food shop, bought each of them a hot dog in a bun, and waited while they ate and bentshed. Out of the corner of his eye he saw his friend from kollel, Avrum Blauer, coming in.

“Shalom aleichem, Reb Yankel! How’s everything?”

“Baruch Hashem,” came the standard answer.

“Helping the wife make Shabbos, eh?” Blauer asked with a smile, casting a glance over the three children bentshing out loud.

“No,” Yanky replied with an expressionless face. “I’m not helping my wife.”

“What do you mean? Don’t tell me these are your brother Nochumku’s kids.”

“No, these are my kids, and I’m watching them at the moment. Is that called helping my wife?”

(Excerpted from Mishpacha, Issue 772)