It was my mother’s birthday. My father told me to secretly buy a ice cream cake after Yeshiva. I come home with the box in my hand and standing in front of the driveway is my mother with a shovel shoveling. I felt so bad. I quickly walked past her, said hello, ran inside and put the cake in the freezer and then ran back out and took the shovel away from her.
(I was reminded of this story because of women shoveling…)