out of the mouths of babes and lils

Morning at the Chateau.
The lady known as Lil is having breakfast with her favourite son.
Bright sunshine bathes the kitchen.
"I've got a card from an old school chum," sez the aged parent.
"What's it about?" quoth me.
"It's an invite to her eighty fifth birthday."
"Will you go?"
The Mammy shook her head.
"No."
"Oh."
My venerable mother paused as though preparing to broach an awkward topic.
"She's also asked me to write down my memories of our time at school together, and to send it on to her," quoth the Lildebeest delicately.
"Oh."
"I was wondering..."
"You were wondering what?"
"Would you write it?"
"Ah Ma, you want me to sit here for hours writing down your rambling interminable memories of Kilcullen schooldays circa 1935?"
"No," sez the Mammy reassuringly, "I want you to make them up. I don't remember anything about her."