To be the mother of a little ginger boy means you whisper in their tiny ears that they got their blazing locks from David HaMelech, who everyone knows was gorgeous.
To be the mother of a little ginger boy means you are not surprised when they can barely walk but you find them on top of the kitchen counter, grinning beatifically with a smile sweet as honey.
To be the mother of a little ginger boy means you are the beneficiary of their fierce love and devotion, and the one who they follow around telling you about superheroes and Lego and what they found in the dirt in the schoolyard- and then they pull it out and show you.
To be the mother of a little ginger Jewish boy means a complete stranger, passing in the neighbourhood, gently rests their hand on his head and says to you softly that this colour is a rare and precious commodity these days.
