Jewish grandmothers have a secret gravy recipe that's 50% guilt.
So my mom calls me up this morning:
"I just wanted to thank you for coming over for dinner last night."
"Oh, you're welcome. Thank you for having us."
"I know that you didn't really want to be there, so I appreciate you coming."
"Um, what?"
"It was just obvious you didn't want to be at dinner with us, so thank you for coming anyway."
"Mom, I'm just really tired..."
"No, no, you don't have to explain yourself to me. I'm just sorry we're so trying for you to be around."
"Mom, are you mad at me for not being enthusiastic at dinner last night?"
"No, I called to thank you for coming. You made your father very happy. He enjoyed playing with Harvey, even if you didn't enjoy being there. He hardly ever gets to see his grandson."
In her defense, she was born on Long Island, so this is in her genes.