I brought back for my parents a macha/raspberry poundcake, which they ate with apparent delight.
My mother: "My mother did that cake!"
My father and I said nothing.
My mother: "Yes grandmother had this business. They would do lots of things..."
Silence from me and father. Grandmother? Whose grandmother? My mother's? Mine?
Me: "I brought that cake for you today..."
My mother: "Yes... but it's mother who did it"
Me: "But your mother passed away decades ago..."
My mother: "Yes. But it's her people who kept on baking it. Grandmother had lots of..."
Me: "Grandmother... you mean your grandmother? My great grandmother...?"
My mother: "Yes my grandmother. I guess she's not around anymore..."
My father: "Perhaps not..."
Me: "And I was 17 when grandmother passed away. I was in high school, I remember"
My mother: (looking at me with a surprised smile) "You're too little to have been born then. Don't be silly!"
And that's how it so often goes...