Dovid shook his head. “It’s not ready. We have to perfect the hermetic seal that attaches the bag to the mouth of the bread eater”

“You’re inventing a crumb collector for the contest?” Binyomin looked incredulously at Dovid. “You can’t be serious.”

“If you aren’t aware, crumbs are a big issue in the space station,” Dovid countered. He was using that big-brother, know-it-all tone that Binyomin hated.

“I don’t get it,” said Meir. “What’s wrong with crumbs? Why do the astronauts care about Pesach, and if they do, why can’t they eat matzah?”

“There’s no gravity in outer space, so if you eat something that makes crumbs, they float all over and get into equipment and damage stuff,” Dovid explained. “And matzah makes even more crumbs than regular bread.”

“But why on earth — pardon the pun — would you think that no one in NASA has come up with a solution?” Binyomin demanded.

“Simple — because Mommy doesn’t work for NASA. All they need is a bunch of Jewish mothers getting ready for Pesach, and they wouldn’t have to worry about another crumb! We just need to make a few calculations to take into account the lack of gravity in space, and Mommy’s chometz containment bags are going to take us to Houston to win the Space Innovation of the Year Award,” said Dovid, folding his arms.

A week later, Binyomin was getting anxious. “The contest deadline is next week! We have to submit our invention,” he told Dovid. “Here are the forms, let’s put it in the mail!”

Dovid shook his head. “It’s not ready. We have to perfect the hermetic seal that attaches the bag to the mouth of the bread eater.”

“But we’re going to miss the deadline!” Binyomin practically shouted.