So, there's this little boy who's completely freaked out by kreplach. Fear and loathing: every time a nice bowl of soup with kreplach is put in front of him, he takes one look and shrieks,
His mother is concerned and goes to consult the rabbi/kidshrink/neighbor, who advises her: the problem is that he's scared because he doesn't know what it is. Show him exactly what goes into the kreplach, explain slowly and clearly that it's nothing to be afraid of, and he'll be fine.
So one day, mom takes her boy into the kitchen, puts him on a high stool, and, with lots of smiles and reassuring pats, begins to deconstruct the dreaded dumpling. First she rolls out a piece of dough. Holds it up.
"Just like a pancake, she sez. "You love pancakes."
"Just like a pancake," said the little boy.
Then she chops up meat and gathers it into a ball. "Just like a meatball. Mmm, meatballs! Yummy meatballs!"
"Just like a meatball," says the little boy, and smiles.
Mom then places the meat on the dough and folds the dough over. Holds it up:
"Just like a little hat."
"Just like a little hat," the kid says, comfortably.
She cooks it up: just like a dumpling. like in the Chinese restaurant? Just like a dumpling, o.k., o.k.
Mom's had a pot of chicken soup on the stove; she now pours some into a bowl and offers it to the little boy, who responds eagerly. Sure, soup; he loves soup.
Just before putting the bowl in front of her son, she drops the kreplach in the soup.
Kid takes one look at it and screams,