At dinner, Dr. Wagner gets up Bree's ass about being an old beach-dry cougar, because of course she's Keith's mother, because of course she gave birth to him when she was nearly twelve years old. Reasons they will love her: Smart and beautiful and a terrific cook. Mostly the last two. He didn't mention the age diff because it won't matter to them because she's so hot with her melted plastic facelift that who could tell. Mom keeps trying to bother Bree for talking about fucking her child and lying to him and Bree keeps trying to talk to the Army dad, and the Army dad keeps saying literally "Don't listen to Mary! Don't listen to Mary!" and everybody's embarrassing.

So after a long long time, when Mary finally brings up the fact that Bree will never have children with Keith because her womb is a lonely garret now filled with coughing spiders and dustbunnies and shame, Bree screams bloody murder and explains that she is old and useless and barely a woman anymore, and Keith can just take his mean drunk mother and shove her, because Bree has three more fits to throw tonight in various places all across Fairview: Hips creaking, face squeaking, Boniva coursing through her veins and her glassy brittle bones. Uterus, clanking along like a tinker's old brass pans.

Renee and Lynette -- those two best friends that do everything together because they fucking hate each other -- are about to take a "client" out for a "meeting" about their "business" and Susan's big dumb head gets in there while she should be cleaning the toilets and she tells the lady that she should paint some characters from her kid's favorite movie on the wall, because nothing delights a child quite so much as dim, shadowy shapes of people in the middle of the night.

Also, I know Julie was grown up in some ways, but were the Knights of the Round Table really her favorite thing? I would think it would be one of those stories where the fairy godmothers come and take you away from your incompetent parent. "Oh, sorry, we made a mistake. This lady was supposed to get a head of lettuce. You have the potential to contribute to society, and thus weren't actually supposed to grow up anywhere near Wisteria Lane."