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Slaves Can’t be Lazy

Rhona Lewis

“Did you water your tomatoes?” Mrs. Eisen called from the kitchen where she was dropping meatballs into a pot of boiling tomato sauce. Aryeh was lying on the couch on his stomach. His hand alternated between turning the pages of his book and dipping into a bag of chips. “I’m in the middle of the action, Mommy.”

Wednesday, November 20, 2013

Aryeh peeped over his book and saw his mother waving a wooden spoon in his direction. “Okay, soon. When I finish the chapter.”

Just as Aryeh pulled the last chip out of the bag, he heard his mother slam the lid on the pot of meatballs.

“We worked very hard to dig up the earth and plant your seeds,” she said very, very quietly. Aryeh sat up; when his mother spoke so quietly it meant trouble. “The seedlings have just sprouted. Wouldn’t it be a shame if they died?”

Aryeh nodded. “I’ll do it now.” Grumbling that he felt just like a slave in Mitzrayim, he walked slowly into the garden, his book under his arm. Then he lay down in the hammock — just to finish the chapter.

 

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