Oy

Eldest son:  [shouting to me from the kitchen] Hey, are those flatbread sandwiches you bought any good?

Me: What flat red sandwiches?  I don't know what you are talking about.

[three minutes of silence pass, followed by an epiphany]

Me: Ohhhh, you said flatbread sandwiches, not flat red sandwiches!

The process is now complete.

I have turned into my mother.

Only she's 79.