Did you bring me the tupper?

This thing I'm going to tell is something that doesn't happen to me alone. I chatted it with a lot of people, and it happens to everyone the same. And worst of all: no one understands why. When  we become independent  from our parents and we are going to live alone or as a couple, moms have a hard time to stop spoilage us. So, as a great act of love and care for who once was your baby or her baby, when we are going to eat, we put together a  tupper  with what left over or whatever they have in the fridge.

So far, everything beautiful. Having the   food  prepared is a difficult satisfaction to explain. But then something happens that opakes that great moment. Mom's smile dissipates, her face gets firm, looks at you and says, “ The tupper you bring it back to me, huh.”  

The first time it happened, I didn't give it any importance. “Yeah, sure, Ma. I'll bring it to you next time,” I said. But next I forgot, and the first thing he asked me when I got home was  “Did you bring me the tupper?”.  My refusal didn't like it, and from there everything got worse. I finally brought him that one, but he had already set precedent: in my mother's mind, I didn't return her precious plastic containers. So, every gifted meal came with a serious warning: “Don't forget, huh.”

 Why that obsession? 

You'll think my poor mother has few  tuppers  and that's why she takes care of you so much. No, not at all: it's got a full section of the basomesada. Above all, because he never throws them: buy new ones and keep accumulating. Can I get the best in your collection, then? Not necessarily: I took tuppers from 1985 and the claim was the same.

There is something that makes my  mom—and  every mum, according to what I could talk to other people—feel an irrepressible need to have all her  tuppers  under her roof. If they are not, keep the count, write it down, remember and claim them. He called me on the phone to ask me if I had such a tupper of his (because he has more than one son and apparently we are all ruthless thieves).

 I'll never understand . I don't know if it's generational or it's just a hobby that develops over the years. The truth is that  moms have an inexplicable obsession with tuppers  that makes every time we take food, we get a problem. I, for my part, already have my strategy: every time I go to visit my mom, I walk around the tuppers owed so that their first words are “hello, how are you?” and not  “Did you bring me the tupper?”.