One, is the look. My mother is Italian, so I have generations of Italian women in my blood who know how to do the look. Even my husband recognizes the look. I wouldn't go so far as to call it the evil eye . . . but there you go, it does have power.
Two, is the art of peppering my speech with two key Italian phrases when I am in no mood to be messed with:
~Basta! = Enough. Stop.
(As in, the boys are arguing, but when I yell BASTA! there is complete and total silence . . . instantly.)
~Punto e basta! = End of discussion, period.
(As in, the boys keep begging for a Wii; every day they complain until we finally say: No, you do not need a Wii, punto e basta. Go play outside. This signals the end of the discussion. Nothing further needs to be said.)
Now shhhh!, I'll let you in on a little secret: these are my secret weapons; I hoard them and whip them out only when absolutely necessary . . . like today.
It's been one of those days.
Remember when . . .