The Scene: The Kitchen and Dining Room of the Bird Household. Middle is preparing to depart for the airport. bb is hovering, somewhat nervously.
bb: So, I don't understand...
Middle: What's not to understand? I've told you. We're shooting a Formula 1 car.
bb: On the Indie track?
Middle: Yeah. I think.
bb: For what?
Middle: I can't remember. R told me...
(Youngest passes through the room)
Youngest: So, press your thighs together.
bb: (starting to perspire) For what?!
Middle: So I don't pass out from the G-Force.
Youngest (from another room): I think they can hit three G!
bb: You're going to be IN the car?
Middle: Yeah, it's a special car they've rigged so rich people can see what it's like to be in an F1.
bb: Just...can you...how about if you ask the driver...what if you just...just tell the driver your mom asked if he can just go a little slow, can you do that?
bb: ....Just ask!
Middle: He's a professional race driver, Mom. I'm sure he knows what he's doing.
bb: Just say, casually, Hey! My Mom would appreciate it if you go just a little slower than usual.
Middle: I'll be fine. I'll be wearing a fire-suit and a helmet.
bb has no response. This knowledge has not comforted her.
Middle: Did I tell you we're gonna take it to a fast food drive-thru?
She pours herself a glass of wine.