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- Story Listed as: Fiction For Kids
- Theme: Family & Friends
- Subject: Family
- Published: 09/27/2016
(there is a glossary of terms at the end)
“Oy vey, Dov,” Mama said, eyeing the thermometer. “You still have a fever. I need to get you more medicine. One of your grandmothers will come and stay with you.”
“Which grandmother?” Dov whimpered.
“Doesn’t matter. Your two grandmothers and three great-grandmothers all love you. It’ll be a surprise.”
The back door slammed and Dov heard a slap, slap, slapping coming down the hall.
“Hello,” a muffled voice said.
Dov stared at the snorkeled face that peeked around the doorframe.
“Nu? I heard maybe you have a fever, boychick,” Great Bubbe Raisel said, taking off her mask and flippers and handing them to Dov, “So, I thought a nice cool dip in the bathtub with my fishy fins and snorkel mask would help.”
“What a lovely idea,” Mama said. “I’m off to the store now. Be good, Dov.”
“Okay, Mama,” Dov said.
“So, maybe I should run some water in the tub and get you wet,” Great Bubbe Raisel said, moving toward the bathroom across the hall.
Dov put a flipper on and admired his foot. “Sure, Bubbe,” he said.
“Shalom,” someone called from the hall, and another voice said, “Nu? Where is everyone?” Dov knew that Bubbe Faigel and Great Bubbe Bluma had arrived. They went everywhere together.
Bubbe Faigel came to the side of Dov’s bed with her mother close behind. “We heard that you’re sick, Dovela.”
“Hot, like a baked potato,” Great Bubbe Bluma said, feeling Dov’s forehead.
“Not for long,” Great Bubbe Raisel said, coming back into Dov’s room. “Dov’s going to swim like a fish in a cool tub and his fever will swirl right down the drain.”
“First, we’re going to put a mustard plaster on Dovela’s chest, to chase that fever away,” Bubbe Faigel said, pulling out a jar and some cloth from her handbag.
“A mustard what?” Dov asked.
“Well, it’s like this, Dovela,” Great Bubbe Bluma explained, working away. “You take a shmate, an old rag, and you shmeer a mixture of flour, water and mustard on half, fold it over and put it on a sick person’s chest. A little while later, like magic, they’re not sick.”
Great Bubbe Raisel put her hands on her hips. “You two are meshuge, crazy,” she announced. “You can’t fix a fever with mustard . . . plastered or not.”
“All done.” Great Bubbe Bluma crooned.
“You’re not putting that on me,” Dov whined. “I’d rather have a fever.”
Bubbe Faigel ignored Dov and unbuttoned his pajama top, so that Great Bubbe Bluma could put the mustard plaster on.
“This stinks and feels icky,” Dove groaned, just as Great Bubbe Yetta careened into his room, with her knitting needles clicking and clacking as she ran. Knitting snaked around her legs and a large ball of wool followed close behind.
“Knit one, purl two . . . tie off the end . . . and this blanket is done,” Great Bubbe Yetta gasped, trying to catch her breath.
“This warm, wooly blanket will take your fever away, Dov,” she said, tucking the humungous blanket around him.
Dov scratched his neck. “It’s itchy,” he complained.
Great Bubbe Yetta noticed the other bubbes, then, and asked, “Nu? Why are you all here?”
A loud “Aruuuuu, aruuuuu . . .” echoed down the hallway, followed by the tip-tip-tapping of a dog’s enormous paws.
“Gut-morgn,” Bubbe Rivkah said. “How’s my little sick Dov? I’ve brought Volf to keep you company.”
Volf licked Dov’s face and wagged his tail.
Bubbe Rivkah wrinkled her nose. “What’s that awful smell?” she asked, “and why are you wrapped up like a mummy, Dov?”
Before anyone could answer, Volf jumped up on Dov’s bed. He drooled and snorted with delight, then dove under the blanket and began licking the mustardy mess on Dov’s chest.
Dov giggled and pushed the blanket out of the dog’s way.
Bubbe Faigel and Great Bubbe Bluma glared at Bubbe Rivkah.
“Look what your narish, yes, silly dog did to our mustard plaster.” Great Bubbe Bluma said.
“You think maybe our Dov is like a giant kosher hotdog, that needs mustard?” Bubbe Rivkah asked. “Ha! Even Volf knows mustard plasters don’t work,” she added, pulling something green and leafy from her purse. “Now, some folks use a castor bean leaf like this on their heads, to chase a fever away.”
“You’re not putting that leaf on me,” Dov protested.
“So, you’ll look funny, maybe,” Bubbe Rivkah said, as she tied the enormous leaf on Dov’s head with a ribbon, “but soon, the fever will be gone with a poof.”
“Ridiculous!” all the other bubbes cried in unison, just as a loud whoosh came from across the hall.
“Oy, oy, oy!” Great Bubbe Raisel said, racing towards the bathroom. “I forgot that I had the water running in the tub.” The other Bubbes followed close behind.
Volf took one last lick of mustard, then plopped down beside Dov for a nap.
Mama stepped over a pool of water, holding Dov’s medicine.
“Why, Dov,” she asked, “What happened here?”
“Well,” Dov explained, “Great Bubbe Bluma and Bubbe Faigle came and put this gooey mustard plaster on my chest.”
“Great Bubbe Yetta made me this gigantic itchy blanket and tucked me in tight.”
“Bubbe Rivkah brought Volf to keep me company and he licked off all the goopy mustard.”
“Then Bubbe Rivkah put this enormous castor bean leaf on my head . . . and Mama, I still haven’t had a swim in the tub yet,” Dov added.
Mama felt Dov’s forehead. “Cool as a cucumber,” she announced.
Dov grinned. “I guess all I needed was a little Bubbe medicine. Right, Mama?”
Five beaming bubbes crowded around Dov’s bed.
“Of course, right, Dov,” they chorused, “ . . . of course right!”
***
963 words
Glossary of Terms
Boychick: A young boy
Bubbe: Grandmother
Gut-morgn: Good morning
Meshuge: Crazy
Narish: Silly or foolish
Nu: Well? So? What’s going on?
Oy vey: Oh no!
Oy: Oh!
Shmate: Rag
Shmeer: Smear
Volf: Dogs name meaning wolf.
Note: add ‘ela’ to any word and it makes whatever you’re talking about become little. So, Dov becomes little Dov when you change his name to Dovela.
A LITTLE BUBBIE MEDICINE(Bea Good)
(there is a glossary of terms at the end)
“Oy vey, Dov,” Mama said, eyeing the thermometer. “You still have a fever. I need to get you more medicine. One of your grandmothers will come and stay with you.”
“Which grandmother?” Dov whimpered.
“Doesn’t matter. Your two grandmothers and three great-grandmothers all love you. It’ll be a surprise.”
The back door slammed and Dov heard a slap, slap, slapping coming down the hall.
“Hello,” a muffled voice said.
Dov stared at the snorkeled face that peeked around the doorframe.
“Nu? I heard maybe you have a fever, boychick,” Great Bubbe Raisel said, taking off her mask and flippers and handing them to Dov, “So, I thought a nice cool dip in the bathtub with my fishy fins and snorkel mask would help.”
“What a lovely idea,” Mama said. “I’m off to the store now. Be good, Dov.”
“Okay, Mama,” Dov said.
“So, maybe I should run some water in the tub and get you wet,” Great Bubbe Raisel said, moving toward the bathroom across the hall.
Dov put a flipper on and admired his foot. “Sure, Bubbe,” he said.
“Shalom,” someone called from the hall, and another voice said, “Nu? Where is everyone?” Dov knew that Bubbe Faigel and Great Bubbe Bluma had arrived. They went everywhere together.
Bubbe Faigel came to the side of Dov’s bed with her mother close behind. “We heard that you’re sick, Dovela.”
“Hot, like a baked potato,” Great Bubbe Bluma said, feeling Dov’s forehead.
“Not for long,” Great Bubbe Raisel said, coming back into Dov’s room. “Dov’s going to swim like a fish in a cool tub and his fever will swirl right down the drain.”
“First, we’re going to put a mustard plaster on Dovela’s chest, to chase that fever away,” Bubbe Faigel said, pulling out a jar and some cloth from her handbag.
“A mustard what?” Dov asked.
“Well, it’s like this, Dovela,” Great Bubbe Bluma explained, working away. “You take a shmate, an old rag, and you shmeer a mixture of flour, water and mustard on half, fold it over and put it on a sick person’s chest. A little while later, like magic, they’re not sick.”
Great Bubbe Raisel put her hands on her hips. “You two are meshuge, crazy,” she announced. “You can’t fix a fever with mustard . . . plastered or not.”
“All done.” Great Bubbe Bluma crooned.
“You’re not putting that on me,” Dov whined. “I’d rather have a fever.”
Bubbe Faigel ignored Dov and unbuttoned his pajama top, so that Great Bubbe Bluma could put the mustard plaster on.
“This stinks and feels icky,” Dove groaned, just as Great Bubbe Yetta careened into his room, with her knitting needles clicking and clacking as she ran. Knitting snaked around her legs and a large ball of wool followed close behind.
“Knit one, purl two . . . tie off the end . . . and this blanket is done,” Great Bubbe Yetta gasped, trying to catch her breath.
“This warm, wooly blanket will take your fever away, Dov,” she said, tucking the humungous blanket around him.
Dov scratched his neck. “It’s itchy,” he complained.
Great Bubbe Yetta noticed the other bubbes, then, and asked, “Nu? Why are you all here?”
A loud “Aruuuuu, aruuuuu . . .” echoed down the hallway, followed by the tip-tip-tapping of a dog’s enormous paws.
“Gut-morgn,” Bubbe Rivkah said. “How’s my little sick Dov? I’ve brought Volf to keep you company.”
Volf licked Dov’s face and wagged his tail.
Bubbe Rivkah wrinkled her nose. “What’s that awful smell?” she asked, “and why are you wrapped up like a mummy, Dov?”
Before anyone could answer, Volf jumped up on Dov’s bed. He drooled and snorted with delight, then dove under the blanket and began licking the mustardy mess on Dov’s chest.
Dov giggled and pushed the blanket out of the dog’s way.
Bubbe Faigel and Great Bubbe Bluma glared at Bubbe Rivkah.
“Look what your narish, yes, silly dog did to our mustard plaster.” Great Bubbe Bluma said.
“You think maybe our Dov is like a giant kosher hotdog, that needs mustard?” Bubbe Rivkah asked. “Ha! Even Volf knows mustard plasters don’t work,” she added, pulling something green and leafy from her purse. “Now, some folks use a castor bean leaf like this on their heads, to chase a fever away.”
“You’re not putting that leaf on me,” Dov protested.
“So, you’ll look funny, maybe,” Bubbe Rivkah said, as she tied the enormous leaf on Dov’s head with a ribbon, “but soon, the fever will be gone with a poof.”
“Ridiculous!” all the other bubbes cried in unison, just as a loud whoosh came from across the hall.
“Oy, oy, oy!” Great Bubbe Raisel said, racing towards the bathroom. “I forgot that I had the water running in the tub.” The other Bubbes followed close behind.
Volf took one last lick of mustard, then plopped down beside Dov for a nap.
Mama stepped over a pool of water, holding Dov’s medicine.
“Why, Dov,” she asked, “What happened here?”
“Well,” Dov explained, “Great Bubbe Bluma and Bubbe Faigle came and put this gooey mustard plaster on my chest.”
“Great Bubbe Yetta made me this gigantic itchy blanket and tucked me in tight.”
“Bubbe Rivkah brought Volf to keep me company and he licked off all the goopy mustard.”
“Then Bubbe Rivkah put this enormous castor bean leaf on my head . . . and Mama, I still haven’t had a swim in the tub yet,” Dov added.
Mama felt Dov’s forehead. “Cool as a cucumber,” she announced.
Dov grinned. “I guess all I needed was a little Bubbe medicine. Right, Mama?”
Five beaming bubbes crowded around Dov’s bed.
“Of course, right, Dov,” they chorused, “ . . . of course right!”
***
963 words
Glossary of Terms
Boychick: A young boy
Bubbe: Grandmother
Gut-morgn: Good morning
Meshuge: Crazy
Narish: Silly or foolish
Nu: Well? So? What’s going on?
Oy vey: Oh no!
Oy: Oh!
Shmate: Rag
Shmeer: Smear
Volf: Dogs name meaning wolf.
Note: add ‘ela’ to any word and it makes whatever you’re talking about become little. So, Dov becomes little Dov when you change his name to Dovela.
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