Iwas bathing the baby and apprising my husband Shlomo about Sunday’s intricate car pool schedule when my son Yosef knocked on the bedroom door. “We’re taking Dovie but not Dov in the morning which will be one less stop but we are bringing home Mordy and Moish with Yosef to work on the science fair project. Afternoon car pool will be crowded so remember to take out the car seat and find someone to watch Pinny. And Shevy has to be picked up from swimming lessons exactly on time and whisked over to the birthday party in Chestnut Ridge. Maybe Tzvi can run that car pool while Chana watches Pinny? What do you think?”
Yosef knocked a little harder and opened the door a crack.
“There is a guy at the front door with candy and flowers! I didn’t open it but I can see through the glass!” he said with the enthusiasm of an 11-year-old boy about to be handed a package with gummy bears.
“Candy and flowers? Who could have sent us that?” we wondered aloud. My husband went down to investigate the situation.
Meanwhile I idly soaped and shampooed Pinny not really paying attention to the fact that I had already shampooed him three minutes ago.
Flowers! Candy! How exciting! The last time I felt this appreciated was last summer when the construction workers across the street had thanked me profusely when the kids and I brought them freeze pops in 92-degree weather. Since then there have been the occasional “Thanks Mom!” and “You’re the best Rivk!” thrown my way but they were few and far between.
The deliciously warm feeling flooded through me. Why someone out there was so thankful for something I had done for them that they took the time and spent the money to buy me gifts. Who could it be?
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