// 845.371.2222 “It’s a real investment, Rivky, I get that,” said Peshy Braun in that maddeningly logical voice she uses, mostly when she does have logic on her side-- but the rest of us are just not getting it. “I mean, fifteen hundred dollars isn’t small change, not for you, or for me, or for anyone in our neighborhood.” “Yeah. That’s kind of the issue,” I agreed, glad she had mentioned it first. “It really is a significant sum, and how can we be sure that the kids will really like it? I mean, of course they’re going to love it the first time, and the second, but for that type of money it needs to last for a couple of seasons.” “Let me drop off the brochure so you can see for yourself. It’s not just a silly old bouncy house or inflatable slide. This is a very high end fun house, with two stories, a twisted slide, and a built-in trampoline. The kids will have such a blast, they’ll forget to be jealous of their friends’ summer plans.” “Okay, you do that,” I said slowly. “Let me show the brochure to my husband and we’ll discuss it. I’ll have an answer for you tomorrow.” “K. But don’t wait too long, because Tova Klein is interested, and so is Chaya Paneth, her kids go to school with mine. But I’d rather share with you because we’re next door neighbors, and we won’t have an issue with where to set it up. It’ll be stored in my crawl space, and we’ll set it up in your play room; it’s bigger than mine.” I could see where this was heading. Peshy Braun was my next door neighbor and one of my closest friends, but she was also a bit compulsive about neatness, so of course she’d want me to host the fun house at my place, keeping the mess and chaos and snack bags and sticky fingers on my side of the street. But that wasn’t a big deal. I could handle a bit of mess. The question was about the investment. Was this really something we should go out on the limb for? Would it be enough to keep our six children, age twelve to seventeen months old, happy and content? “I say let’s go for it,” said my husband, as he studied the brochures. The little ones were asleep, the two eldest doing their homework. It was the only quiet part of our hectic, supercharged day. “Really? Fifteen hundred dollars for a fancy bouncy house? Or whatever this thing is supposed to be? I’m not sure. What if the kids get bored of it after using it once? Or what if it snags a hole and deflates?” “It says here that there’s a money back guarantee,” Shaya pointed out. “It sounds like a really great activity, and definitely cheaper than taking the kids to New Hampshire.” “Just make sure you’re both in this, fair and square,” he cautioned. “If we’re paying for half the indoor entertainment, we should be getting equal access. Even if it’s being stored by the Brauns.” I called Peshy back the following afternoon. It was a yes, but there were some conditions. I wanted to have the option of inflating the slides on a random Sunday, even if Peshy’s kids weren’t available; to invite some of my nieces and nephews to join us on occasion. And we were both liable for repairs if the inflatable fun house were to break down after the warrantee expired. Peshy right away, and thanked me for seeing the light. “This summer, our kids will be the luckiest. After a few vacation days, the fun house will practically pay for itself. And by the way, I forgot to tell you, there’s a ten percent off sale, plus free delivery. I’m going to order it tonight, before it sells out.” Peshy was always ordering diapers for half the neighborhood, finding specials and deals that no one else could. I knew, even without asking, that Peshy had definitely found the best price for the fun house. The total, after the sale, was $1800. I paid her $900 in cash, as we tried not to use credit cards unless it was absolutely necessary. I promised my husband I’d be extra careful with discretionary spending this month. The delivery was scheduled for the day before school ended, perfect timing, and my kids were thrilled. They spent many happy hours with the Braun family, planning exactly whom they 171
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