“You’re the mother. What could you possibly know about a boy who’s serious about becoming a talmid chacham?”

She sees it happening before her eyes. He’s learning all day, her 18-year-old son, learning all night, never taking the time to exercise. Never socializing with friends. Even bein hasedarim, unless he’s sleeping, he always has a sefer in hand.

This muscular, athletic, and sports-minded son of hers, in a matter of less than two years, has swung from following every sports team, going to games — even getting a signed ball from a baseball player that he then slept with under his pillow — to super masmid, talking learning, thinking learning, doing nothing besides learning.

Neighbors, rebbeim, and mentors are impressed.

She worries.

“What did you do to raise a bochur like this?” they ask admiringly.

She shifts uneasily in her seat.

“Pshhh…” her brother says the first time he sees Chaim with his Brisker peyos and size seven velvet kappel. She has to smile then. She can’t deny she’s proud of him and thankful he’s stopped smoking that hookah thing or, alternatively, lying depressed in bed. She very much wants to believe he’s found himself, and the rebbeim she speaks to confirm her hopes.