Friday afternoon

We were driving back from a prolonged shopping trip. There was a pond to our west, and the sun was setting over it.

Mom: Wow, look at the sunset.
[I looked.]
Mom: A.! LOOK AT THE SUNSET!
A.: I'M LOOKING AT IT!
Mom: NO YOU'RE NOT!
A.: Mom! What the hell is your problem?
Mom: You're not really looking at it. If I weren't driving, I'd be mesmerized.

It's like when we go for walks and she yells at me for not looking around enough.

***
I made the salad and dad the veggies while mom was on the phone. We went to the living room--I to read, he to take a nap--just as she was coming into the kitchen to make her part of dinner. It wasn't long before she needed something from one of us or the other.

Mom: A.!
A.: What?
Mom: A.!
A.: I'm busy, mom.
Mom: What is this?
A.: What is what?
Mom: Come in here?
A.: Do I have to?
Mom: A.!

I went to the kitchen. It was zucchini. Mom knows what zucchini is.

Mom: Open that thing for me, please?
A.: What thing?
Mom: That thing.
A.: The fridge?
Mom: No.
A.: [Looking to where she was pointing.] The oven?
Mom: No!
A.: What, then?
Mom: That! What we bought today.
A.: What, the dishwashing liquid?
Mom: Yeah, that.