Why I cry (red sauce)

I remember one time, when I was a kid, maybe 5 years old, my family had some cousins in from out of town and we invited invited them over for dinner. As we always did when we had company over, we ate in the dining room. It was beautiful room that we were only allowed to enter under adult supervision or when company was over.

That night my mother served her delicious lasagna as it was a family favorite passed down for generations going back to Italy. Me being a clumsy 5 year old, I dropped my fork, with a bite of lasagna, on the white carpet. My mother, without saying a word, fire in her eyes, grabbed me by the hair and dragged my up the stairs to my bedroom. As she was dragging me, bump, bump, bump, I threw up all over myself and then she got really mad.

So that's what's wrong with me. To this day, I still can't keep lasagna down.