Jewish
"I never saw a feather," Levi said. "If you wanted me to have a feather, why didn't you knock on the door and hand it to me?"
"The rabbi told me to leave it on your doorstep," Yankel explained.
"Why on my doorstep? What's this about a feather?"
"Not just your doorstep. Everyone's doorstep. I don't know why, but the rabbi said to do it, so I must. And if your feather is gone, then I must go too, for I have many feathers to find before the sun sets."
"I never saw a feather," Levi said. "If you wanted me to have a feather, why didn't you knock on the door and hand it to me?"
"The rabbi told me to leave it on your doorstep," Yankel explained.
"Why on my doorstep? What's this about a feather?"
"Not just your doorstep. Everyone's doorstep. I don't know why, but the rabbi said to do it, so I must. And if your feather is gone, then I must go too, for I have many feathers to find before the sun sets."
Tova rushed into her parents' room. "What's wrong, Papa?"
"Let me ask you a question," said Shlomo. "Why does a cow give milk?"
"Everyone knows that, Papa. A cow gives milk because she eats grass."
Shlomo and Rivka beamed at their youngest daughter.
"What a wise child you are," said Shlomo. "So if we feed grass to our hens, they will still lay eggs, but they will also give us milk."
"Shlomo," said Rivka, "you are a genius."
"I am indeed," said Shlomo, and he blushed.
