All you need is a friend with a grabber
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All you need is a friend with a grabber

You’ve got a friend with a grabber — that’s all ya need!

I have often spoken about the joy and magic of having three boys. I am not really sure what it is like NOT having boys, so I needed to tell the tale of what happened this weekend in my house filled with love, testosterone, and geniuses. (The genius part is to be read with a twinge of sarcasm because I do think my boys are smart, but, in this particular instance, not so smart.)

As I sit at my kitchen table writing this column, Son #2 is playing his recorder from fifth grade. Why is he playing it? Because he dropped his phone behind his bed. When you drop your phone behind a piece of furniture that has not moved in almost 20 years, it becomes an adventure in discovering many other treasures that have “disappeared” over the years. The recorder seems to be one of those things … can you hear it? “Mary had a little lamb, little lamb, little lamb…” Ah, so soothing. Wonder where else you can lose, I mean use, a recorder?

We also found the library book that the same son lost and I had to pay almost $30 for. But at least we found it. Even library books need closure. We also found a note that I wrote to him apologizing for yelling at him about some cleat incident — oops, sorry about that, kid. Must’ve been pretty scary to get me to write a note about it. And then there were all of the crayons and legos and baseball cards and kippah clips and a lovely collection of dust bunnies. Out came the pretty pink vacuum and cleaned up almost 20 years of dust and lord knows what else.

Before Son #2 went to Israel for almost two years, if he had dropped his phone right before leaving for shul to welcome the Shabbos queen, he might have gotten a little upset about it, and I would have had to come to the rescue. (I guess all those years ago, I was able to move very large pieces of furniture.) But this post-Israel Son #2 is an entirely different person. He comes down stairs, wishes me a “Good Shabbos,” and then says, “Mom, I have something to tell you and it’s bad for the Jews.” “What is it, my precious boy?” “Well, I seem to have dropped my phone behind my bed — but it’s okay because it is on airplane mode and has a few hours left before the battery dies.” Umm, but we know where you dropped the phone, so even if the battery dies, we don’t have to worry about calling it to try and find it. “Oh right, mom, you are right.” I am always right. Just saying….

So a lovely Shabbos went by and then it was time to get back the phone. This is where the genius part comes in. First, Son #2 moves the toy chest from the end of the bed. Then we have to take all of the new seforim (books with talmudic or some kind of non-secular content, which have been multiplying like rabbits all over the house). Then we have to take out the high riser, and then the really fun part starts. My three monkeys decide to try to pull the bed, which is attached to a Formica headboard, away from the wall. But we don’t realize that the bed and headboard are securely attached to the full-size dresser.

And that is when all of the baseballs start raining down on everyone’s head.

How did that happen? If you have only boys do baseballs just fall from the sky?

Well, I had to move the baseballs from the bookshelf to replace them with the new books that Son #2 brought home from Israel. I thought the top of the dresser would be a good place for them.

To make a long story longer, the bed, dresser, and headboard finally move. But no one’s arms are skinny enough to reach the phone. (You would think as the only female in the house, I would have the most delicate arms, but, alas, that is hardly the case.) And that is where my friend with the grabber comes in.

Because I’d gone to visit my friend earlier in the day — she cannot leave her house due to an injury — I noticed her grabber. I told her the phone predicament. Abracadabra, the grabber got the phone, the phone was back in Son #2’s hands, and his whole room is back in order.

And I didn’t have to do a thing except supervise. Hey, maybe I did something right after all.

Banji Ganchrow of Teaneck will try to return the library book, but she cannot imagine she will get her money back. Oh well.

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