Ally is so, so sad. Her hot-rolled hair falls in front of her eyes. She relives the moment when her three-year-old, flannel-nightgown-wearin' self sticks her head into the crack in her mommy's bedroom door. Sad cello. Jeannie walks in and tells Ally that her dad went home. Ally asks if her mom needs a place to sleep. Jeannie chuckles. No, she's going home and they'll survive. "Is that how you characterized your marriage, Mom? It survived?" Jeannie says that there are worse descriptions and that they're over the "fiftieth percentile." Wearing too-small sweaters must be a chromosomal disorder. Jeannie apologizes for what happened when Ally was three. She starts to say more about that, but Ally cuts her off with, "Were you really jealous of me, Mom?" Ally's mom sighs and sits down on Ally's childish white-iron-framed bed. Please suspend your disbelief to its highest point starting now. "From the day you were born, there was a...a magic to you. Well, there still is. It's unbelievable...[sigh]...well, the only word I can think of is magic..." Ally's eyes are wide. "Ahh! Ahh! Don't stop!" moans her ego. She's almost there. Jeannie continues, "When I say that your father's love for me had died..." Ally's ego yells, "Don't stop now!" and then it takes matters into its own hands. "Maybe," says Ally, "it just became difficult for him to love a woman who was so envious of her...own...daughter." Her ego shoots its wad all over her...own...mother. "It's not that I didn't love you, Ally..." says Jeannie, but Ally shows her the hand, wanting to relish the afterglow for a sec. Now it's time for another musical memory. Ally and her dad used to sing "Dulcinea." Sometimes Jeannie wakes up in the middle of the night and George is at the piano playing that song. George never found the love of his life, even though he and his wife love each other. Ally mists up as she asks if they never had any "wonder" at all. Jeannie mists up as she insists that they did...but she grew up and moved away. Aww! Ally was the wonder of their love! That is so...so...sappy! Jeannie picks at Ally's hair to drive her point home. Ally says that if her mom only knew how Ally's longed to be close to her... "Yeah. Me, too," says Jeannie in a way that shows that she's just glad this scene is almost over. Then she gets up and does a little monologue about how groovy George was for raising Ally to believe that her dreams would come true when his never did, blah blah blah. Then she announces that she should go home and "make him a sandwich, at least." Make him a SANDWICH, David E. Kelley? That is so freaking inane, buddy. Ally says that her parents could come over for Christmas. "Yeah, that'd be great," says her mom, failing to add: "...seeing as how we have no lives or other relatives." Then she gets the heck out of there, and I guess she has to take a taxi or something to the airport, since Ally is too self-involved to drive her. Or maybe it's that Ally's car hasn't been washed lately and isn't suitable for public viewing.