More ways to torment mom...

I mentioned before that I tormented my mother in various ways when growing up. Here's another.

During Sunday School one day (I don't remember the exact year, I was probably somewhere between 10-12 years old) I was kind of bored. The teacher was talking about the destruction of the first Temple, and the construction of the second Temple. At one point she mentioned that the temple was mostly made of wood. I piped up "But what if the Big Bad Wolf comes and blows it down??" That earned me the first and only time I've ever been kicked out of a class.

While sitting down outside the door to the classroom, several other teachers walked by and they were all shocked to see me sitting there. The worse part was the drive home. You see, I left out one small detail. The teacher happened to be my mother. It was a very quiet drive.

When we got home, I was told to go into the dinning room, sit down, and wait for my father to come home. I don't remember how long I sat there, and I don't remember what my dad said to me, but I never mouthed off to mom in the classroom again (nor any other teacher as well).

Sorry Ma!

How to torment your mother...

I mentioned in this previous post that maybe I would post other ways I've tormented my poor mother. This one is my favorite! (which of course means it's probably pretty low on mom's list of wonderful life events...)

This happened about a year or so before my Bar Mitzvah, so I was 11 or 12 at the time. We were going to services one Friday night, for someone's Bar Mitzvah. We got about a mile down the road when my mother realized she forgot the Bar Mitzvah gift. As the president of the Sisterhood, she would present the Kiddish cup to the Bar Mitzvah boy. So dad turned the car around and home we went. Dad clicked on the garage door opener, and mom ran in the garage to the house. All the sudden we heard "Ahhh!" and saw my mom dance around a little bit. Trying to see what was going on, we looked more closely, and saw a snake slither out of the garage and into the grass. Mom composed herself, went into the house, and got the cup.

So now it's a little bit later, we are back on the road, heading to the synagogue. I look at my brother and give him the "shhhh" sign. I then slowly take off my leather belt. Then slowly, slowly, inch by inch, I push the belt up and over mom's sholder. Finally she glances down and... "AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!" Oh, that's what a blood curling scream is!!! Fortunately dad was able to keep from driving the car into a ditch during all this, and I of course got yelled at. (I think I saw a smile on dad's lips though... hmmmmm). I guess I'm just fortunate that the belt wasn't use to wack my hide after that!

Even now, almost 30 years later, when we go to the zoo with my mother (taking the kids) she'll pass on the reptile house and happily wait outside in the sun while the kids gawk at the snakes and everything else. Poor mom...