"A good 'Yom-tov' to you. What do you want?"
"I want something for the party."
"What am I to give you? My troubles? Or my aches?"
So said my mother to me. Nevertheless, she was ready to give me something towards the party. We bargained about it. I wanted a lot. She would only give a little. I wanted two eggs. Said she: "A suffering in the bones!" I began to grow angry. She gave me two smacks. I began to cry. She gave me an apple to quieten me. I wanted an orange. Said she: "Greedy boy, what will you want next?" And my friends on the other side of the window were kicking up a row.
"Will you ever come out, or not?"
"Leib-Dreib-Obderick!"
"The day is flying!"
"Quicker! Quicker!"
"Like the wind."
After much arguing, I got round my mother. I snatched up my breakfast and my share of the party, and flew out of the house, fresh, lively, joyful, to my waiting comrades. All together we flew down the hill to the "Cheder."