You're Fired!

How dare you!

The youngest went all Donald Trump on me yesterday.  "You're fired, Ma!"  "Fired?  From being your Ma?" "No, Ma, you're not fired for being my Ma." "Whew!  Color me relieved!"  "You're fired from appearing in any more of my student films."  "Oh, eff them!  I wasn't that bad!"  "You got some big laughs."  "So, you're firing me just as my acting career takes off?  Oh, the cruelty!"  "I'm not the one firing you, Ma.  Blame the head of the film department."  "The head of the film department is canning my ass?  Ouch."  "He wants us to use actors we don't know.  But he liked Uncle John."  "Oh, I see. The clown stays in the picture, but the mother, the one who schlepped you around in utero, who gave birth to you -- "  "Ma, it's not personal."  "Have I taught you nothing, son?  Write this down:  Everything is personal."  "Hang on, let me get a pen."