Sunday breakfast

Mom: I can't open this.
A.: Hand it over. (I open a foil packet of tea). It smells funny--what is that? It smells like fake vanilla.
Mom: It's... vanilla-green. Want some?
A.: No thanks.
Mom: I like vanilla.
A.: I like plain green. If it's quality green tea, you don't need another flavor. Though sometimes it's nice with a bit of jasmine.
Mom: Ooooh. Ooooh. Well, I like vanilla.
A.: Okay.
Mom: What's this?
A.: An apple peel.
(Mom eats the apple peel).
Mom: Ha! There--I'm poisoned!
A.: You can have this conversation with dad. I'm not the one who peeled the apple.
Dad: I peeled it because it tasted like pesticide.
Mom: So? Tastes good to me. My body can process pesticides. You have to talk to your internal organs and train them to get rid of toxins.
Dad: Well, I don't like the taste of pesticides.
A.: Either do I. Either does the soil, nor the rivers, nor the ocean. That's why there's a dead zone in the Gulf of Mexico.
Mom: What does that have to do with why I can't have vanilla tea?
A.: It has to do with the apple peel.
Mom: You don't understand the power of thinking, of paradigms.
A.: I very much understand the power of paradigms.
Mom: It's all in your mind.
A.: The dead zone in the Gulf of Mexico is in my mind?
Mom: I believe firmly in buying what's cheapest.
A.: Well, I believe in paying another ten cents per apple for organic.
Mom: I'll keep buying what's cheaper. But I agree, pesticides should be banned.
A.: Pesticides are not going to be banned, and they're not going anywhere unless you get away from always buying what's cheapest. I don't always buy organic either, but I don't dismiss it as a load of hippie crap (like I do locavorism).
Mom: You can't make me change.
A.: Can I make you stop whining about pollution and environmental degradation, since you're not gonna put your money where your mouth is?
Mom: No.

***
A.: Mom!
Mom: What?
A.: Don't stick the serving spoon that's on your plate, touching the fish, back in the hummus!
Mom: Big deal! This was in the hummus.
A.: Than why'd you put it on your plate?
Dad: You take after me.
A.: Me?
Dad: Yeah. I believe in keeping serveware clean.
A.: Use a different spoon.
Mom: Big deal.


***
This conversation happened yesterday, too, almost exactly as it did today.

Mom: Stop furrowing your brow. You know, when you got here, your forehead was clean. Now it looks worse. (Whispering) Is it your period?
A.: No! Get off my back.
Mom: Is it?
A.: You asked me that yesterday.
Mom: Then what's wrong with your forehead?
A.: I don't really know how to answer that.
Mom: Interesting.