Oy vey

My father's mother was a German Jewess who converted to Catholicism in order to wrest her sons away from her ex-husband.

Long story.. but it goes to show vicious custody battles are hardly new.

But I digress. Never mind my biological Jewish heritage, my real destiny in things Judaic more probably come from my Mum, whose daughters dubbed her "The Jewish Mother".

Absolutely no slur intended on anyone, but if you'd seen Mum in action, (hands in the air, clawing at her hair, "What did I DO to deserve a child like you" song, then you'd know exactly what we meant).

Basically, if guilt-tripping was an Olympic event, Mum would have won gold.

Well tonight I was at my kvetching best.

Brae has taken to swinging on my treadmill handle, despite knowing ruddy well it isn't allowed. And tonight, he tore the padding quite badly.

Of course, he gave the game away by immediately going quiet, and finding something cute to do.

When I asked him about the handle, his answer was immediate: "Daddy did it".

Hmmm.. think quick, Karl. A-hah.

I shoved my hands over my face & wailed at my most sackcloth & ashes best, faking such heart-breaking sobs that immediately Hollywood was clammouring at the door to award me the gong for best over-acting in a non-supporting role.

Brae's reaction was to try to force my mouth upwards into a smile, and my eyes open into their normal crinkly expression. Both of these manouvres HURT, which made the tears flow a little more convincingly.

Upshot is that he immediately fessed up, and said he was sorry. He got a big hug from both his parents, and praise for being truthful. Then he got to help Dad fix the mess.

It's scary how easily I slipped into JM-mode. But it worked far better than a big growl would have.

Okay Mum, I get it. You weren't born kvetching, you caught it from your kids :-)

I guess hereditary goes both ways, huh!