Lindsay’s in the living room, doing homework on the couch. She looks up and there’s surprise in her eyes. “Elliott,” she says. “Haven’t seen you in a while.”

He nods, his cheeks reddening.

The phone rings, and Lindsay grabs it.

“Wanna hang out in my room?” I ask Elliott.

“Okay.”

“I’m Ms. Greenberg,” Lindsay says, winking at us.

I nudge Elliott and nod toward the phone. “Check this out,” I whisper. “Lindsay’s so funny with telemarketers.”

Elliott and I hunch together and eavesdrop.

“Yes, he’s my son,” Lindsay says, shrugging at me and Elliott.

It’s hard to hold back laughter.

“Yes,” Lindsay says, “that would be wonderful. I’ll let him know.”

She presses the phone against her ear and leans forward.

“No, thank you. He’ll be very excited to hear that.”

She nods.

“Yes, just let me get some paper.” Lindsay waves her hand, and Elliott whips a sheet of paper and a pen from his backpack.

Lindsay scribbles something, then says, “Thanks again. Good-bye.”

When Lindsay hangs up, her cheeks are bright pink and her hands are flapping. She looks at me, then Elliott, then me again. “David,” she says in this high-pitched voice that sends my heart racing.

“What?”

Lindsay screams, “They’reshowingTalkTimeonTheDailyShow!”

I hear something that sounds like “TalkTime” and “The Daily Show.”

I shake my head. “What?”

She keeps flapping her hands, like she’s hoping to take flight. “David, they’re going to put TalkTime on The Daily Show.”

“They’re …”

“On tomorrow’s show!”

Elliott punches me really hard in the arm. “David, this is so great. This is so great.”

Lindsay holds both of my hands. “That was a producer from The Daily Show. They’re going to play your Jon Stewart TalkTime video.”

“Oh, my …”

Lindsay squeezes my hands really hard and we jump and scream. Elliott pumps his fists in the air. “Oh, yeah! Sweet! Oh, yeah!”

Dad walks in just as Lindsay and I fall over and nearly crack our heads on the coffee table.

“What? What are we celebrating?” Dad asks. “Hey, Elliott. Great to see you.” He squeezes Elliott’s shoulder. “So, what’s going on here?”

Breathless, Lindsay explains. “A producer … from The Daily Show called. They found out … about David’s videos … on their forum. And they’re playing his video … tomorrow.”

“The Daily Show?” Dad asks. “Are you sure it wasn’t somebody playing a trick?”

Lindsay shows Dad the piece of paper.

Dad calls the number and speaks to the producer. He hangs up and says, “It’s true.”

Lindsay and I jump and scream all over again.

“Vos?” Bubbe asks, coming into the room.

Lindsay explains, and Bubbe hugs me. “Oh, I’m so proud. I told you that Jon Stewart was a mensch!” Then she notices Elliott.

“Bubelah!” She puts his cheeks in her palms. “So nice to have you back here.” Bubbe looks at me and winks.

“Nice to see you, too, Matzo Ball Mama,” Elliott says, and we all crack up.