“Let God bless you and watch over you,” he begins in Hebrew. I stand in my spot while the Wine kids line up in front of Mr. Wine for their turn.

“Get out of my seat,” Honey says to Micah when she gets back, stomping on his foot. “Milla’s my guest.”

Micah smiles winningly at a skinny man with wispy hair until the man moves down one chair toward Ezra; Micah slides into the seat on my other side. “I’m funny, right?” Micah says to me, wagging his eyebrows up and down.

“Nope,” I say, giggling.

Mr. Wine holds the large silver kiddush goblet up high and loudly begins the blessing over the wine again, the room quieting down. When it is over and everyone is drinking wine or grape juice in thimble-sized silver cups, Mrs. Wine hands a piece of white folded paper to each of her kids.

“Good Shabbos, my loved ones.”

“Good Shabbos, Ima,” they chorus.

Then there is quiet rustling as the Wine children read their notes. Ezra, who is captain of every sports team and apparently feared even by the kids on the non-Jewish hockey teams, brushes a tear off his cheek and gulps his grape juice. Josh glances at his quickly before going over to read Aaron’s to him. Honey smiles as she reads her note, then turns to read Dan-Dan’s to her, accidentally sweeping her own note onto the floor. I pick it up and take a quick peek before putting it on her plate.

Dear Honey-loo, it says in Mrs. Wine’s quick scrawl, I was so proud of you for watching Aaron and Dan-Dan yesterday when I got my phone call from the chevra kadisha. You are a model older sister, and I know you will rise to your new circumstances and embrace any challenges. I love you. Ima.

New circumstances? Is this bat mitzvah related? I think about Honey’s expression in shul last week and suddenly wonder if it is connected to her big news.

Mr. Wine claps his hands to get everyone’s attention. “May I invite you all to netilat yadayim, our ritual cleansing of the hands before we bless the challah. And let me remind you”—he holds up one finger in a fake serious way—“that between the blessing over our hands and the Hamotzi blessing over the challah, we do not talk until we have taken a bite of the bread.” He ushers everyone to the kitchen sink.

Even though no one’s talking, the Wine kids are snapping towels at each other. Micah flicks water at me, and I dash to hide behind Honey, giggling. Mrs. Wine gives Micah a big “ahem” and puts her hands on his shoulders to march him back to the dining room. Finally, Mr. Wine says, “Hamotzi lechem min ha’aretz.” He salts the challah, saws the soft braided bread with poppy seeds sprinkled on top into fourteen pieces for everyone sitting at the table tonight, and tosses them into a basket. As the basket makes its way around and each person bites into their piece of challah and is allowed to talk again, the table erupts into laughter and shouting.