Normal: Britney is the Alpha Mom. She knows where to get Go-Gurts three for $5.
Culty: Britney asks you to refer to her as The Vessel.

Normal: The group collects modest dues for museum passes and emergency Goldfish.
Culty: Dues are paid in your child’s hair. First haircut. Full moon. No questions.

Normal: Your toddler plays happily with the other children.
Culty: Your toddler seems to be learning Latin.

Normal: Muffin party
Culty: Gathering featuring leavened sacramental orbs

Normal: Candy creates a group chat.
Culty: Candy names the chat The Circle of Milk and Flame, and pins a voice memo that simply says, “She is coming.”

Normal: Someone brings Oreos to the playdate. The moms hoard them.
Culty: Someone brings Oreos to the playdate. They are burned as an offering to three fertility goddesses: Lauren, Lauryn, and Loren.

Normal: “Wow, your little guy is growing so fast!”
Culty: “Mind if I measure his head circumference again for The Holy Ledger?”

Normal: On your birthday, you’re presented with a cute Moms Rule! refrigerator magnet and some herbal teas.
Culty: On your birthday, you’re presented with a robe. It fits perfectly. Everyone’s wearing the same one. They are humming in unison. You feel seen. You also feel cold.

Normal: Moms' Night Out! Margaritas, maybe a little crying in a Chili’s parking lot.
Culty: Moms’ Night Out. In a graveyard. Clothing optional. Someone says “release the carrier,” and you’re 83% sure they mean you.

Normal: “My mom drives me crazy too.”
Culty: “You must sever ties with the blood mother. Her tuna casserole binds you to this realm. Cast it into the fire.”

Normal: Book club where nobody reads the book.
Culty: Book club where nobody reads the book because Bev is live-channeling The Teachings of the Capybara, parables that borrow from Anthroposophy and The Medea. But only after everyone signs an NDA. In blood. Seriously, this one should be obvious.