Raisin, O Raisin, wherefore art thou?

I have to hide the raisin bread.

My mother is here for a visit, and she and the twins are having a wonderful time so far.  Mom has several times pointed out to me, ways in which one or the other of the girls takes after me when I was a small child.

It’s too humiliating for me, though, for her to find out one more way in which they take after me.

That’s why I’m hiding our loaf of raisin bread deep in the recesses of our fridge.

You see, one of my mom’s pet peeves, when I was small, was how I would excavate a loaf of raisin bread and pick out all the raisins and eat them.  Then, when she would reach for a slice of “raisin” bread, what she got – was just “bread”, the raisins having long since departed this earth by way of my gullet!

And yep, you guessed it – my twins likewise render a lovely slice of raisin bread into something more resembling a slice of swiss cheese, but with larger holes.

And I’m embarrassed.  And I wonder: is this a result of genetics, or just karma?  Is there such a thing as Raisin Bread Karma?

(and yes, Mom, I know you’re going to read this eventually 🙂  but somehow it’s less embarrassing for me if you’re not in front of me when you’re rolling with laughter at karmic justice being served.)

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