About a month or so ago, we went to eat with my parents at mom’s favorite place: Miguel’s. Dad ordered mom her usual burrito and mom ate it up.
Last week, my sister and my Aunt took mom out to Miguel’s as a birthday present from my Aunt. My sister called me later that afternoon to give me a surprising report: mom did not know how to eat her burrito. I know nothing should be a surprise with this disease, but it had only been a month since her last visit. And what a difference a month makes.
“I don’t eat this part, no,” mom said, as she laid open her burrito and used a fork to eat the filling. Despite coaxing and explanations from my Aunt and sister, mom could not be convinced that she was supposed to eat the tortilla.
To make my sister’s experience even more eventful, the burrito evidently did not agree with mom. They were almost home when she motioned to my sister to pull over the car. She opened the car door (after Christina had pulled over, of course) and threw up the contents of her burrito. It didn’t all make it outside of the car, however. The upholstery of my sister’s new car was sprayed and mom made a mess on her pants. The smell was apparently too much for my Aunt to handle; it wasn’t long before she joined in the action and started to throw up in a bag in the back seat of the car. Poor Christina!!