Apples

Me: Mom, stop. Stop picking apples. We don't have any more space [in our 1/4 peck bags].
Mom: But they're so good! These are the prettiest ones!
Me: But we can't take them with us if they're not in the bag!
Mom: I'll just put it in my pocket!
Me: No!
Phuong: Why not? I have one in my jacket pocket.
Me: "Oh, what do I have in my pocket? An apple? No, no, it's tennis ball." *arches eyebrows* You could stuff some in your bra. Well...I couldn't.
Phuong: *Stuffing apple down jacket* What about now? Can you tell?
Me: Yes. You have triple boob.
Phuong: *adjusts*
Me: That's not going to fit in your bra.
Phuong: I'm not putting it in my bra.
Me: Then it's going to fall out!
Phuong: No, it won't.
Mom: I'll put it in *MY* bra.
Me: No, Mom! Jesus sees EVERYTHING!!

Hakuna-Frittata

Me: Hey, Mom.  Help me break the goat cheese on top of this.
Mom:  What is this?
Me: Frittata.
Mom: Where is it from?
Me: I don't know.  I think it's an American thing.
Mom:  The name sounds African--like the song from the Lion King.
Me: Oh.  My.  God.