I was never fond of those girls who are all like, “My family is nuts and mortifying and I have braces and ohmigosh, my life is so hard.” Because please; people have real problems. But my sister Yocheved does have a real problem that spills over into my personal home life. And it’s called my nephew Levi.

The kid looks like an angel, he really does. But he’s so challenging that sometimes it’s hard to love him. Or take care of him. Or want to be near him. And although Yocheved would never admit it, I’m pretty sure she feels the same way.

Ma doesn’t agree; she thinks he’s just spoiled and needs boundaries, etc. She doesn’t see that there’s something inside of him, some sort of explosive anger that makes him lash out.

I want to be there for Yocheved — she has so much going on and she’s my sister and she’s a total doll — but I also want to lock the front door and throw away the key every time I hear they’re coming over.

Pressing my ear to the bathroom door, I can hear Yocheved speaking softly, calmingly to Levi.

That won’t work, I say silently through the bathroom door. Sure enough, a second later I hear the sound of Levi kicking something over and Yocheved crying out, “Levi!”

Whatever he broke, it was mine. Probably better for everyone if I don’t come out until they leave. I sit on the edge of the bathtub, and take deep breaths. Six more days until I’ll be safe and far away in Camp Ashreinu.

Just six more days.

“Six more days!” Debbi shrieks when she sees me. “SIX more days, Naomi, do you understand? I’m conferencing Zeesy this second, we must decide on what we’re doing with the polo shirts. I have a Cricut, does she? I’m thinking we Cricut onto our shirts the days of the week, Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, etc., and then on the back of the shirt the word WAITRESS. It’ll be like a uniform, people are going to roll. That way, we legit only have to bring six polo shirts and the rest of our bags can be like fun sweats, outfits for off days, and obviously, nosh.”

I’m obsessed; trust Debbi to come up with a creative solution to our camp wardrobe dilemma. People are either going to love it or hate it. But that’s the thing about being staff: we don’t actually care what other people think.

Zeesy is our other camp bestie; we’ve been going to Ashreinu together the past two summers. She lives in this amazing house in Los Angeles. Debbi and I went to visit last winter vacation and we got to stay in her guesthouse. The three of us just basically stayed up for a week straight; it was one of the most fun experiences of my life.

Zeesy confirms her neighbor has a Cricut and she loves the idea, so we can get right to work.

Debbi is psyched, her cheeks are blush pink, and her brown eyes sparkle.

“’Kay, run home and grab your polo shirts,” she commands, “and then we can start.”

I salute her smartly — she can be so bossy — and half walk, half jog the block home. The driveway is empty. Hopefully that means Yocheved and her progeny have left the building.

I love that my big sister lives only a few blocks away. She’s an amazing person, Yocheved, and I love spending one-on-one time with her. But she has zero control over Levi.

I tiptoe into the house, up the stairs, and into my room. My camp things are all in a huge pile in the corner. I pass the trash can; steeling myself, I peer inside. Yup, the picture frame from the photo of Debbi, Zeesy, and me is sitting there, neatly cracked into three. I take a deep breath, straighten my shoulders, and head to the camp pile. Sifting through flip-flops and zip-ups and packages of socks, I grab the polos, hop down the stairs, and am about to make a break for the front door when I hear something from the den.

Still on tiptoe, I sneak a look inside.

Levi is curled up on the green beanbag chair, fast asleep, lashes throwing long shadows on the curves of his face.

And Yocheved is sitting on the chaise longue, eyes closed, sobbing.

To be continued…

(Originally featured in Mishpacha Jr., Issue 949)