[flashback:]
Dorothy: Grandma, here we are.
Sophia's Mother: I'm in a wheelchair. I'm not blind. I can see where we are. And it could stand a good vacuum.
Sophia: Hi, Dorothy. Hello, Mama.
Sophia's Mother: Where's Salvadore? He's hiding from me, isn't he? He always hides from me. The little monkey hates me.
Dorothy: Well, don't be silly. Pop is crazy about you.
Salvadore: Don't lie to your grandmother! It's a sin!
Dorothy: Well, he's not crazy about you, but he's very fond of you.
Sophia's Mother: He hates me. The man repairs complicated machinery for a living. Three times this month, he couldn't set the handbrake on my wheelchair.
Dorothy: Grandma, that was a coincidence.
Sophia's Mother: Please. All three times was at the top of the stairs to the Flatbush subway station.

[flashback:]
Sophia: Dorothy, if I ever do this to you, I want you to take me out to a field and shoot me.
Dorothy: Could you put that in writing?
Sophia: Dorothy, come closer. [slaps Dorothy's face]

Blanche: [answering phone] Hello. Janet, it's so good to hear your voice, honey.
Dorothy: Ma, what are you doing?
Sophia: Cooking. If I wait for you to take me to brunch, I'll starve to death.
Dorothy: Ma, you're making me feel guilty.
Sophia: I know. It's Mother's Day. You celebrate your way, I'll celebrate mine.

Sophia: Okay. That's it. When she gets off the phone, we're going for lunch. I'm tired of listening to these lousy Mother's Day stories.
Rose: Sophia, don't you have a Mother's Day story?
Sophia: I said I was tired of listening to lousy Mother's Day stories. I wouldn't mind telling a good one. Picture it: Brooklyn, 1957, the second Sunday in May. Dorothy had gone to pick up my mother and I was getting the house ready which mostly meant trying to get my Salvadore into a shirt with sleeves.

[flashback:]
Mrs. Zbornak: Go away!
Stan: Mama, it's me, Stanley.
Mrs. Zbornak: Oh, Stanley.
Stan: Ma.
Mrs. Zbornak: My pride and joy. Sunshine of my life.
Dorothy: Hello, Mother Zbornak.
Mrs. Zbornak: Yeah, right.

[flashback:]
Salvadore: Okay, I think I can solve this problem.
Mrs. Petrillo: How? You want to take me to the top of the stairs again?
Salvadore: You think I don't want you here, huh? Well, this is my home and a man's home is his castle. And in this castle, I'm the king. Capisce?
Sophia: He's talking nonsense. He must have got hold of-
Mrs. Petrillo: What are you saying?
Salvadore: I'm saying I want you to move in.
Mrs. Petrillo: You mean that?
Salvadore: No.
Mrs. Petrillo: Ah! Too bad. You said it.
Salvadore: Happy Mother's Day, Mama.

Dorothy: [on the phone] Okay, honey, just a second. Ma, he wants to talk to you.
Sophia: [taking phone] Hello, Michael. Have you eaten? Well, I haven't. Good-bye. [hangs up] Let's roll.