I look up in surprise.

“We thought you might like a new dress—a different one—for your bat mitzvah. I realize I pushed you into getting something you didn’t want,” my mom says, a guilty look on her face.

“Oh,” I say. “Thank you!” I hesitate and then go for it: “Do you think I could get something made?”

“Actually, that’s what we were thinking,” my mom says, smiling at my dad. “That you might want to be involved. And I know a dressmaker who’s just starting out with her own business and would be happy to make it for you for not a lot of money—it’s good advertising for her.”

“What about the peach dress?” I ask. I feel bad about the waste. And the money.

“There will be other bat and bar mitzvah parties. And after that maybe there’s a local charity store that would be happy for a donation,” she says, smiling. And that gives me another idea.

At the very end of the official seder, just before we get to the final songs, Shmuel Yosef holds up his hand.

“If you don’t mind, I have an announcement,” he says. “I’m going to Jerusalem to continue my Jewish studies.” We all look at him politely. “And I’ve asked Steph if she will join me there. As my bride!”

“And I’ve said YES, he can be my groom!” Aunty Steph adds.

Aunty Steph and Shmuel Yosef are beaming and gazing into each other’s eyes in the way that makes us all very uncomfortable. But instead of my mother making a funny face at my father behind their backs and mouthing “goo-goo eyes,” my parents just look at each other and open their eyes wide.

“Mazal Tov!” my parents say at the same time. “Mazal Tov!” My mother takes my father’s hand. And then I understand: Aunty Steph and Shmuel Yosef are engaged!

“MAZAL TOV!” I shout, congratulating them. “MAZAL TOV!” I shout again, Max joining in with me.

“Oy, Mazal Tov! There’s going to be a chaseneh,” Aginéni says, meaning a wedding, and with pink spots in her cheeks. Who knew? Aginéni is a romantic!

I jump up to give Aunty Steph a hug. We probably hug a really long time, but I don’t notice either way.

And then we all burst into my favorite Pesach song, “Chad Gadya,” which is a list of things that add up kind of like consequences or chain reactions: A father buys a goat, a cat eats the goat that the father bought, a dog bites the cat that ate the goat that the father bought, and so on.

As we are singing, I think that it is kind of like life—the things we do affect other people and everything is related. It is kind of like the red wheelbarrow again too. But anyway, our singing sounds pretty good. Really good, actually. And even though we aren’t that many people, for once my house is really loud. Good loud.