Mother is taking hostages again, pulling at the grandchildren to get them to come to Bubbe's for Passover, come to Bubbe's, come to Bubbe's. They want to go to Auntie Nomie's, where you have to keep strictly kosher and not touch the light switches on Shabbes and boys don't touch the girls and women don't shake hands with the men, and all sorts of other restrictions on modern living that they would normally not put up with. But at Auntie Nomie's, they seem quaint and charming. Especially when the alternative is Passover with the lunatic drug addict who barks out "Woof" in peculiar, spontaneous verbalizations.
Yes, it's come to this. My mother barks like a dog, and my children do not want to be with her for the holiday. They didn't say they WON'T, so they haven't given up their compassion entirely,
but they are really gritting their teeth...