Call me ‘mammone’. Call me ‘bamboccione’. I don’t care. On the contrary, I am proud of being it.
Directly from Milan on the Frecciarossa of Friday night, la ‘mamma’ came to Rome for the week-end to take care of her ‘bambino’.
And not only she helped me in my house-hunting, providing invaluable (and free) counselor services, but - just because she had a couple of hours free and she didn’t know how to fill them - she cooked me for the whole next week!
Ah, mums! If they didn’t exist, we should invent them*...