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
“We’re not from around here,” I say, displaying a facial expression that seems half facetious, half tongue-in-cheek. Ariella cracks up. “Of course you’re not from here! Now come here to the storeroom, I want to give