And I wonder, still I wonder

Lots of things in Israel have funny names: New Year's is "Chag HaSylvester" (note the lack of attention to the anti-Semitic nature inherent in holidays named after saints who loved to dispatch with heretics), St. Valentine's Day is "Yom HaAhava" (again, as if there is no anti-Jewish aspect to the whole holiday just to start with), a ladybug is "Parat Moshe Rabeinu," plastic road dividers are "New Jerseys," a hands-free phone receiver headset is a "Madonna", and the list goes on. One cool funny name, though, is what pigs-in-blankets are called here - "Moshe B'teiva," Moshe in the ark/floating basket he was placed in as a baby by his mother Yocheved and sister Miriam. Ariella LOVES Moshe b'teiva. She askes me to make them before every Shabbat. As a good, healthy eating and feeding mother who never serves bad-for-you stuff (please refrain from reflecting on the title of this blog), naturally I demure most weeks, as I absolutely refuse to serve puff pastry and all its attendant fats on a regular basis. It has been a while since we made them. So I can not tell you what prompted the latest Lola observation.

This morning, the little princess jumped out of bed and ran into our room, requiring a little snuggle time before getting dressed. She settles in, then suddenly pops up to ask, "Imma, why are pigs-in-blankets called "Moshe b'teiva'?" Before I can even respond with what I thought should be an obvious answer, she continues, "It's not right because Moshe was all covered up in his teiva. It was closed at the ends, and the hot dog is open at the ends." I was speechless. I guess we are getting something out of the free, public school education!

Dvora