Mumma doesn't eat Chinese

So we're sitting at the dinner table when Mumma and I tell Papa about are lunch/parlour plan. He groaned about the high parlor expenses and then:

Papa: Please tell me you're not going to Subway for lunch?

Me: What's wrong with Subway?

Papa: You guys always go there.

Mumma: So?

Papa: Pick a new place, be a little adventurous! Why not Punjabi By Nature?

Me: You want me to pay ninety bucks for a roti.

Mumma: Why would we go without you?

Papa: KFC?

Me: *stares*

Mumma: *glares*

Papa: Fortune Cookie?

Me: Mumma doesn't eat Chinese.

Mumma: Why do you always say that?

At this exact moment I stared at my mother. She hates Chinese or at least that's what I've come to believe over the last couple of years. So I tried to double check. My last memory of us as a family eating Chinese definitely has Mumma complaining about the excessive smell of garlic. We've never gone out for Chinese since then ( discounting that brilliant meal in San Francisco).

Every single time anybody suggested Chinese I shot the idea down. "Mumma doesn't eat Chinese" was repeated countless times.

I haven't once considered that my Mum didn't really hate it as much as I thought/exaggerated.

I can't believe that for so many years she's never told me this. She's been watching me increase the degree of her hatred towards Chinese every single year. Not once did I sincerely ask her whether she'd go eat Chinese. I just assumed away and as a result denied myself some great meals.

But its all out in the open now. Mumma doesn't hate Chinese. So we're going to Lemon Twist tomorrow. YAY!

I am just glad that she finally admitted it.