Eat your oatmeal

Mom: You emit a coldness. [Pause.] You emit the coldness of a know-it-all. This makes things difficult for you. I think I've told you that before.

That was preceded by this:

Mom: A.!
A.: Just a minute.
Mom: A.!
A.: I'm coming.
Mom: A.!
A.: What?
Mom: Did you turn off the radio?
A.: You'd left.
Mom: I can't believe you turned off the radio. Russian Radio is much better than what you listen to.
A.: There was nobody in the room.
Mom: I just went to take a shower!
A.: Right. So I turned off the radio,
Mom: How could you turn off the radio?
A.: There was no one here. Are you ready for breakfast now? Do you want oatmeal.
Mom: I love oatmeal. Your father never makes oatmeal.

On the way downstairs, mom continued to complain about how obnoxious of me it was to have turned off the radio. I turned off the radio (again), followed her downstairs, and made oatmeal. She always pours kefir over her oatmeal, which makes it cold, and then complains about how it's cold. The key is to get her to eat the oatmeal right away so that it's at least lukewarm, but she often gets distracted. So the latter comment--about my cold disposition--came after I asked her to eat her still-hot oatmeal before picking at everything else that was around.