Sunday, November 13, 2011
I think my son is a Jewish mother trapped in the body of a 1 year-old boy.
He force feeds. If you come over, he will greet you with some delicacy from the
fridge floor and do everything in his power to get the food into your lips. And, if you refuse, he will keep trying until you nosh! He will even take the food off his own plate and out of his mouth to make sure you're satisfied. He insists!
He's a backseat driver. Oy vey, you should hear him whine from the back seat. Either you're not driving fast enough, or there's too much traffic, or the air is too cold, or you're simply not going the way he wants you to go. And he's not shy about letting you know how he feels.
He is very manipulative. He knows what he wants and he knows how to get it. And when he doesn't get his way, he kvetches.
He uses Jewish guilt. (See above)
He has to be the center of attention. (Oh you want to be part of the conversation? Too bad.)
He likes to take a little shluff in the middle of the day. And, he complains if he doesn't get his beauty rest.
He collects tchotchkas. You should see all of his crap.
He meddles in my business. Whether I'm on the phone, the computer, or the toilet, he wants to know everything I'm doing.
And finally, he's incontinent. This must be the Jewish great-grandmother in him. What a pisher. Literally.
See what I mean? Ari is
Jill Zarin a Jewish mama disguised as a toddler. Stereotypical perhaps, but I'm pretty sure it takes one to know one.