Boy child enters house to pop music playlist blaring and absolute but organized disaster in dining room and kitchen.
Kid: Is your mom okay? What’s she doing?
9.75 shrugs: She’s cooking with Millie.
Kid, confused: Who’s Millie? She’s alone in there with 300 pounds of tomatoes.
9.75: My great-grandmother. She’s been dead like 20 years. She got here last night. It’s some Italian thing. She just shows up. I think it means everything is gonna be okay.
Kid: I thought you’re Irish.
9.75: We are. But not Millie and not my mom. They’re all Italian, and Italians figure their shit out in the kitchen. Just let them work.
Kid: Okay, now I know what angels smell like.