“Mummy, daddy guess what Yehuda got for Christmas!”

Sybil and George simultaneously put down their knives and forks and looked aghast at their eldest daughter, Julia. George looked at Sybil and Sybil returned his lost gaze. It was up to one of the two adults at the dining table to ask the simple question. “Who’s Yehuda?” followed by the other obvious question asked by Sybil, “I’ve never known a Christian boy with the name Yehuda!”

Both Timmy and Rosa who in anticipation of hearing something dangerous, though they weren’t sure what, picked up their knives and forks again and began eating their dinner. Julia wiped her beak and proceeded to enlighten the family. “Yehuda isn’t Christian. He’s Jewish.”

George lost control of his knife and fork and it fell with a loud clatter onto his plate which caused Sybil to glare at him, because the plates were her grandmother’s dining set from the old country. He mouthed the word ‘sorry’ wiped his beak and as was expected began his diatribe. “Young lady,” both Timmy and Rosa stopped eating because they knew they were about to learn something from the mouth of the esteemed rabbi of the North Topsail Beach Jewish community. “Jews don’t celebrate Christmas!” followed by “where is Yehuda and his family from?”

“Surf City,” replied Julia the only one to continue eating her dinner.

“Reform Jews?” asked George in the best imitation he had of an Ashkenazi from Poland.

“Yes, I think so. Mindy and I went to the YMHA in Surf City after school today, because she said the best looking Jews hang out there. I saw Melanie and she introduced me to him. You should see his muscles.”

“That’s enough!” replied Sybil who really wanted to keep eating dinner. It wasn’t that often they had pasta and meatballs, because of Rosa’s reluctance to eat spaghetti because she felt they looked like worms. However, this time Julia had made, what Rosa called mermaid pasta because they were shells. In Rosa’s world all mermaids lived in shells. “That’s enough!” Sybil repeated because she was afraid her eldest daughter was going to challenge her. “George, please say something to the children.”

“Did Melanie remember me?” asked Timmy before his father began.

“No,” replied Julia, “she was with another male a Starling I believe.”

“They’re the worst kind of Jew,” began George now having all the ammunition he needed to bring his family back in line. He was just glad that neither Jeremy nor Elizabeth were there, because he wasn’t sure they would agree with him. “Young lady,” began George again, and this time for effect he cleared his throat rather loudly. “Jews don’t celebrate Christmas. Of course, Timmy’s friend, Max, does and invites him over for dinner. But I don’t think Timmy sings their songs.” Not quite true thought Timmy but he wasn’t about to say anything. He glared at Rosa for a second because he had forgotten he had told her the story after returning from Max’s dinner. Rosa smiled her evil little smile and tucked that little bit of information away for when she could use it to her best advantage.

She turned her head deliberately to face her father, much to Timmy’s horror because he thought she was about to say something. “The only Jews who celebrate Christmas are those that believe Jesus was the Messiah, and Reform Jews.”

“Yes,” interrupted Julia as her father took a deep breath before he continued his lecture, “Yehuda is a Reform Jew. He goes to Melanie synagogue.”

“Well, there you go,” continued George appreciative of his daughter’s interruption because in all reality he wasn’t sure where to go next with his little diatribe. He continued now with renewed vigour, “they call it a Chanukah bush.”

“Do they have a star on it and little plastics dolls hung from the branches like Max’s family does?” asked Timmy believing what he had just said would add to the discussion. But alas, it didn’t.

“I have no idea,” replied Julia and then closed her mouth before she said anything that might be harmful to her in the future, knowing that the little tape recorder known as Rosa was listening intently to every word.

“Anyway,” began Sybil believing they had discussed the subject long enough now that dinner was getting cold. “I’m sorry Julia, I forgot to ask you what it was that that chap you met at the YMHA got for,” and she gulped before adding, “Christmas,” and then smiled very shyly.

“A puppy,” replied Julia sitting up straighter in her chair, “a little Dachshund.”

“I want one!” Rosa jumped in believing that if Yehuda can have a puppy so can she.

“And who’s going to look after it Rosa dear?” her father asked remembering she had asked for and was given a rabbit for Pesach because she cried non-stop. Rosa then one day released it onto the beach when she decided it should be free after listening to a Martin Luther King speech in class.

“I will daddy,” Rosa sounded genuine but the rest knew she was far from it.

“How about when we get a larger nest?” asked Sybil, “then you can have all the puppies you want.”

Rosa shrieked with delight without thinking that the chances of the family getting a bigger nest were fairly remote as George and Sybil had talked about downsizing somewhere in the not so distant future. “But there is a condition Rosa dear.”

“What’s that mummy?” asked Rosa ready to jump up and down even before dinner was finished.

“That they are all stuffed.”

“They will be once I feed them mummy. Thank you! Thank you! thank you!”

“Rosa,” Timmy said rather loudly, “did you understand what mummy said?”

“Yes, I did. I can have all the puppies I want as long as I feed them.”

“No Rosa. Stuffed doesn’t mean that you’ll feed them. Stuffed means they are toys.”

Rosa slumped in her chair. “That’s not fair mummy,” and then as always, looked at her father for support, but George who had enough discussion at dinner about Reform Jews and their celebrating Christmas, had gone back to his dinner which was fast getting cold.

“These meatballs are really good Julia. Is it grass fed beef?”

“No dad. We’ve had this discussion many times. We can’t get grass fed beef. The only supermarket around here is in Sneed’s Ferry, and they don’t know what grass fed beef is!”

George was silent. He wasn’t sure why he asked the question, he already knew the answer.

Rosa’s mind was whirling. She felt she had been slighted badly by her mother’s belief she couldn’t look after a puppy. She needed to have the last word. “Was the puppy what’s his name got hanging from the tree?”

“No puppies don’t hang from trees Rosa,” Julia answered laughing.

“How do you know Julia?”

“Because they’re too heavy for a tree. Plus, I think he got it on another day.”

Yes, Rosa saw her opening, but should she exploit it or wait for a better time? “I love this dinner,” she replied to Julia figuring out that what she was going to say would be better saved for another time. “Thank you for not making chicken.”