Going To DQ

As Rachel has gotten older, we have taken more trips to the DQ. No, not Dairy Queen. Drama Queen.

Just about any conversation has the potential to turn into a Shakespearian Tragedy...or perhaps a comedy where our daughter plays the fool, taking acting goofy to new levels as we urge her to stop.

Recently, she was giving us all sorts of attitude at a Japanese restaurant where she and Rebecca go every Saturday night. Unable to keep her in line, I decided to hit her where I knew it hurt. I told her that her mom and I were going to order a bowl of red bean ice cream apiece and there would be none for her.

Now I had her attention. Her lip began to quiver. Her eyes grew moist. Her nostrils began to flare in and out. No dessert? Quelle Outrage! The tears began to appear.

"Can't I give her just a bite or two?" Rebecca asked.

"No!" I snarled. "You need to be strong too."

Then, Rachel unleased a statement that foreshadows someone who will excel at inducing guilt in the future.

"When you guys go on vacation, why don't you just leave me at home in the closet!" she snapped.

Wow! Good stuff! I put my hand in front of my face as I tried to stifle a smile, while simultaneously admiring it.

The Jewish Mothers of the next generation will be in good hands.