Three munchkins spill into my abode for the shabbos meal. Mimi sidles up to me, pudgy chin up. I laugh. “Cookie?” She nods solemnly. How did I know? After the giving-out ceremony to all, big sister and big brother approach, eyes popped like superballs. Malka takes the lead: “Bubby, you have new prizes already?” I laugh again. This one wasn’t an I-knew-it moment; it was more a here-we-go-again challenge. Those ethical dilemmas that cookie giveovers never worry about.
Out comes the plastic bin with the mauve cover. In go three pairs of hands rummaging and crinkling. Out pour the questions. How many can we have? That's an easy one, I state my authority: one big, one small.
More rummaging as I savor the moment and wait for their existential questions to drop. Shlomo holds up an apple notepad, “Is this a big prize?”
“Is it?” I ask the kid, and he nods vigorously. I nod back. Big prize it is.
Malka glances at it like a light blink. A red one. I can already sense the whys forming in her young mind.
A prattle in the bin, and she unearths a pink box. “What is this?” It takes less than a year to figure out how to open it and divide the 3D food erasers into countable piles to be fair to all grandkids the world over. I ask the kids to choose one cute eraser and one plain one. I settle into my chair, follow the movements of little hands, the way Shlomo thinks it through, and how Mimi grabs with abandon. Malka deliberates. “Bubby, is this cute?” I splay my hands, right and left. Can I let her decide that too?
“What do you think?” she looks up. “It’s cute.” I can see why she would think so, but… “ I nod. “Then it’s cute for you.”
I shift in my chair and survey the kids. On the cusp of Mimi’s dress is a pile of loot with four erasers and a collection of what-not. “Uh, Mimi, everyone gets two prizes only; which ones do you want to put back?”
