← Stories Podcast: A Bedtime Show for Kids of All Ages
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Hello. Welcome to Stories Podcast. I'm your host, Amanda Weldon. Today's story is a throwback episode. Tune in to hear one of our classic stories from the archive that you might have missed the first time around. We have Stories Podcast merch, available@storiespodcast.com shop. We're also on cameo for all of your personalized video message needs. And don't forget to follow us on Instagram Stories Podcast. If you send us a drawing of your favorite scene or character, we'll share it on our feed. Now, here's a word from our sponsors. Thanks. Enjoy the episode Smaller than Ever Once upon a time, there was a woman named Rebecca who lived in a tiny little farmhouse. It was all one room, which would have been fine if she lived alone. But she didn't live alone as much as she wished she did. No, Rebecca was forced to share the tiny little farmhouse with her three sisters and their three husbands and all of their many, many children. It was a packed little house, and it seemed to always be full to the brim and about to boil over. There's no room in my house. She would cry every morning. She was woken up by the screams and cries of the babies. The kids threw food during breakfast and kicked her knees under the table and laughed and laughed. The husbands were loud and her sisters were louder still, with the tiny little farmhouse's solitary room, there was no peace to be had. Rebecca only had privacy in two places the privy, which is a bathroom, which smelt too bad to hide in for long, and the temple. Needless to say, she spent a lot of time at the temple. One day she was there, sitting in a pew, when old Rabbi Katz found her. The rabbi had been part of the town since before Rebekah was born, and everyone agreed he was as wise as he was kind. And there was none kinder than old Rabbi Katz. Rebecca, he said, you're always here, always looking so glum. You know I love having you in the temple. But that frown. Tell me, what's the problem. Oh, Rabbi, she said. The house is so small. The babies are always screaming and crying. The kids throw their food and kick my knees and laugh and laugh, and the husbands are loud and my sisters are even louder. It's all so crazy and there's no peace to be had. The house just feels so small. Rabbi Katz thought long and then he thought hard, and then he thought long and hard, all the while stroking his big salt and pepper. Finally, he leapt up with an aha. What is it, Rabbi? I know how to fix your problem. Tell me does your family own any animals? You've got a few, yes. We have a goat and a cow and a goose. Rabbi, why do you ask this evening when you go home, bring the goat inside the house to live with you. Rebecca blinked at the rabbi, processing what he said. Bring the goat inside? That's right. Now run along and let me know how it goes. So Rebekah headed back home and she brought the goat inside the house for the night. That's how much she trusted the rabbi. Unfortunately, it didn't go so well and she returned to the temple the next day. Rebekah. Rabbi. Cats called when she entered. Tell me, was my idea a success? I'm sorry, Rabbi, but it wasn't any help but impossible. Tell me everything. Well, I brought the goat in like you said, but the house felt even smaller and it smelled like a barn to boot. The lousy goat bleated louder than the babies, cried, and the beast even headbutted one of my sisters, which made the kids laugh and laugh. I laughed a little too, but only until I tried to sleep. The goat clomped around all night long, and when I yelled, it ate the blanket right off my back. The house felt smaller than ever. The rabbi listened closely and nodded, drifting off in thought. He stroked his bushy beard and scratched his curls and then leapt up. I've got it. What is it? Rabbi? You said you've got a cow too, right? Yes. Well, that's what you need to do. Go home this evening and move the cow inside also. Rebecca looked at him wide eyed. The cow too. It was already so bad with the goat and the babies and the kids and my sisters and their husbands. Just trust me, Rebecca. Give it a try. Rebecca nodded and headed home, thanking the rabbi. She knew he was wise, so she did as he asked and brought the cow inside with her. Unfortunately, it wasn't a success and she was back in the temple the next day. Rebecca, my Rebekah. Rabbi Cat said, tell me, did I get it right this time? Rebecca slumped into a pew. Her eyes were dark and she yawned aloud. Rabbi, I'm sorry, she said, covering her mouth. It was a long night. I take it my idea did not help. Well, I brought the cow in like you asked, but right away it was no good. She was so big. She knocked over the table and the goat started eating all the food and then the napkins and the plates too. A husband got kicked trying to move the cow, and my sister got bit trying to move the goat. The kids laughed and laughed and the cow mooed and the goat bleated, and it was just no good at all. The house felt smaller than ever. She took a deep breath and blushed. I'm sorry, Rabbi. It was just a really long night. I cannot lie. I thought this might happen. It's a tricky thing, balancing a home. Lucky for you, I've already worked out a solution. It's going to be great. Marvelous even. What do I need to do? Well, you mentioned the goose. Please don't say it, Rabbi. Move the goose in with you, too. The house is so small already. Please, for me. Just give it a try. Rebecca sighed and yawned and nodded, heading home to her very full, tiny little house. She grabbed the goose and brought him inside with her and hoped for the best. Unfortunately, the best did not come to pass and she found herself back in the temple the very next morning. Rebecca, how did it go? He said, but before he even finished, Rebecca was already answering. How did it go? How did it go? Well, let me tell you, Rabbi, she said, half frantic and half asleep. The goose bit a baby and a baby bit the goose. The goat headbutted the cow, and my sister slipped in milk. The whole house smells like a barn and the goat bleats and the cow moves and the goose honks and honks and honks and the whole house is just smaller than ever. She stood there panting for a moment. I'm sorry, Rabbi, she said. I just. I haven't slept and I'm a little on edge. The rabbi brought her to a pew and sat them both down. He nodded slowly, stroking his salt and pepper beard. All right, I hear your complaints and I have another plan for you. No more animals, rebecca said miserably. Please, just. Just no more animals. Exactly, said Rabbi. Cats. No more animals. I want you to go home and put all of the animals back in the yard. Rebecca blinked at him in disbelief. Back in the yard? Outside. That's right. Send the goat and the cow and the goose all back outside. Well, Rebecca was confused but didn't question it further. That night she went home and sent all the animals outside, and the next morning she was back at the temple. Rebecca, tell me, how are you doing? Rebecca took a deep breath. Well, with all the animals outside, it's so nice. There's no bleating or mooing or honking, and no one headbutted anyone or ate a blanket or bit a baby. It just feels so peaceful now. I swear, Rabbi, the house has never felt bigger. The rabbi smiled. Ah, Rebecca, you're welcome, he said, because he was wise and he knew that sometimes all you need is to see how much worse things could be to remember how good you already have it. The End Today's story, Smaller Than Ever, was an adaptation of a Yiddish folktale written for you by Daniel Hines and performed for you by me, Amanda Weldon. If you would like to support Stories podcast, you can leave us a five star review on itunes. Check out all of our merch available@storiespodcast.com Shop Commission a special video on Cameo, follow us on Instagram oriespodcast or simply tell your friends about us. Thanks for listening.