Joey: Ma! What're you doing here?

Mrs. Tribbiani: I came to give you this (Gives him a bag of groceries) and this. (Whacks him round the ear)

Joey: Oww! Big ring!

Mrs. Tribbiani: Why did you have to fill your father's head with all that garbage about making things right? Things were fine the way they were! There's chicken in there, put it away. For God's sake, Joey, really. (She gives the sofabed a tiny push and it folds away)

Joey: Hold on, you-you know?

Mrs. Tribbiani: Of course I knew! What did you think? Your father is no James Bond. You should've heard some of his cover stories. "I'm sleeping over at my accountant's," I mean, what is that? Please!