Last Thursday was Sophia Petrillo's 82nd birthday (or as my husband calls her, The Mama). In our family, Sophia is kind of like the Godfather, except she doesn't own any guns, which is a good thing because some lady--who keeps letting her dog shit on the sidewalk if front of her house--would have gotten shot in the ass by now.
In the last few months, Sophia has had some health issues (diagnosed with Epilepsy) and has been extremely verbal about how much aging sucks. She's not taking it lightly and she's fighting it tooth and nail, y'all. The following is a conversation that took place in her hospital room during a recent stay. Several of my siblings were present....
Hospital Check-In Lady: Hello Sophia! How are you?
Hospital Check-In Lady: You 're not old! You look so beautiful for your age!
Hospital Check-In Lady: Sophia, I need to ask you some questions. Is that OK?
Hospital Check-In Lady: I understand that your primary language is Portuguese. Would you like me to get you a translator?
Sophia: No. My chi-dren gonna help me.
Hospital Check-In Lady: Oh. OK. Let's see...How old are you?
Hospital Check-In Lady: Wow! Eighty-one! Good for you! You look amazing!
Hospital Check-In Lady: Where do you live?
Sophia: *accurately gives address*
Hospital Check-In Lady: Do you live alone?
Sophia: Yes, but my son live in apartamente upstayas from me.
Hospital Check-In Lady: Are you abused at home?
Sophia: *looks around the room, puzzled*
Hospital Check-In Lady: Sophia, ARE YOU AFRAID AT HOME? Does anybody abuse you or hit you at home?
Sophia: *looking at my brother* HUH?
My Brother: *speaking Portuguese* Ma, the lady wants to know if you are afraid of us. Do we abuse you or hit you?
Sophia: *a look of disbelief across her face* MY CHIDREN NO HIT ME. I KILL DEM FIRST.
My Sister: She's not kidding.
Hospital Check-In Lady: Well alrighty, then.