ABSTRACT
When my second daughter, Naomi, was only a few weeks old, I had to stop at a massive discount store to purchase something. I took her out of the car seat, put her in a little holder, and then placed the baby holder in a shopping cart. As I walked through the store with my precious baby looking up at the gargantuan ceiling, I found myself crying silently. I immediately knew why. I realized that I had kept my baby at home until then, and now for the first time I was having her meet the real world. That world consisted of overly bright fluorescent lights that buzzed and flickered; of oversized people in undersized clothes; and miles and miles of shelves with junk that nobody needed but everyone wanted. I had hoped to keep all of that away from her, but I was never able to. I also realized I was launching her on her education—and this education did not conform to my sense of Jewishness.
