It's like butter

Mom: I'm going to sautee the mushrooms.
A.: Please use oil rather than butter.
Dad: Really, A.?
A.: I don't eat butter.
Dad shakes head disapprovingly.

Mom: V., would you please get some olive oil from downstairs.

Dad recovers some olive oil.

Dad: There are about five more bottles down there (not including the two you just bought, that are on the dining room table).
A., opens bottle: It smells a bit stale, but it will do.
Dad: Well, it's been down there for a decade or so.
Mom: Whatever. Besides, you should sautee in butter.

A.: Do you shred or chop the carrot?
Mom: I usually chop it.

Five minutes later

Mom: That carrot is sliced much too thick! I usually shred them.
A.: You said you usually chop them! Didn't she?
Dad: She did.
Mom: Well, I usually chop more finely.
A.: It's actually quite thin.
Mom: It won't do.
Dad: My work here is done.

Mom: I can't do it. I can't bring myself to sautee mushrooms in oil.
A.: Could you give it a try, just this once?
Mom: Sigh.

But for the next hour, she alternated between the following two refrains:

(1) That carrot is too thickly sliced!
(2) Mushrooms. In olive oil! Who'd have thought? Unbelievable! A travesty!

If mom's persistent reiteration of the latter statement isn't absurd enough in and of itself, let me point out that I'll be the only one eating the mushroom soup. Mom and dad are having chicken soup; the mushroom soup is for me. Mom is fighting with me over whether or not to use an ingredient that I don't want, in a food that only I will eat.

***
Mom: Would you grab a few potatoes?
A.: From where?
Mom: What, you don't know where we keep the potatoes?
A.: No. How would I know where you keep the potatoes?
Mom: They're just there.
A.: There being...
Mom: [Sigh!]

Mom retrieves the potatoes from outside the kitchen, in a basket on the steps to the basement. And continues to harp about the olive oil.