The Joys of Yiddish

Something about having a baby means that our entire extended family has reverted back to a language we only sort of vaguely know. My father constantly refers to the baby as bubbeshein. My mother has decided she wants Milo to call her Bubby. The week that Steven's mother was here I caught her calling Milo boichick, which to me was the biggest shocker of all because while my parents frequently throw in Yiddish-isms into their daily speech, I didn't know that my mother-in-law had any knowledge of the language.

In fact, when Steven and I were first dating we had a fight over the fact that when we toasted with drinks he liked to say "cheers" and I liked to say "l'chaim". There was of course a lot more drinking and toasting going on back then, so this seemed very important, and we were at an impasse for quite a while because each of us thought the other's toast was stupid and dorky, until we just finally realized that we didn't have to say the same thing when we toasted. So now he says "cheers" and I say "l'chaim" and we get on with our lives. (Unless we're in France - then we both say "salut" because we like to pretend we know French.)

In any event, there is a lot more Yiddish being thrown around these days, usually in reference to Milo. Maybe because as a language it's a sort of cutesy, baby-like one, or maybe because our parents and our parents' parents spoke to us in Yiddish-isms. But either way, we have run into a problem which is this: Steven and I are now four generations removed from anyone actually speaking Yiddish as a first language, and as a result we don't always know the meanings of words. So the other day when I said we should shtupp Milo full of milk in the hopes that he might sleep longer, Steven gave me a horrified look.

"You never say you're going to shtupp your son," he said.

"I didn't say I was going to shtupp him," I countered. "I said I was going to shtupp him full of food."

"That's not what it means," Steven said. I knew he was thinking of the way the word is used in Mel Brooks movies, as slang for something that you certainly don't want to be doing to your son.

"That is what it means," I said. "You can say that."

"You can't say that."

"You can!"

We glared at each other while Milo slurpped happily from his bottle.

"There's the actual meaning and then the slang," I said. "You can say it."

"Maybe," said Steven. "But I don't like it."

Now, I know I'm right on this one, but I probably won't say it again. Because what if I'm wrong. And anyway, what business do I have using a language that I don't really speak.