The Parent Trap

Visiting one's parents is like making a pilgrimage to some ancient monument: the audio guides don't work, the exhibits aren't labelled properly, the entrance fee is extortionate and the toilets are always full. But it's the "living history" tour site that really bother me. The actors are terrible in their funny costumes, and why do they insist on speaking in that weird dialect using all those old, outdated words?
Meanwhile, my mother's well-stocked fridge is decorated with a ceramic magnet bearing the dubious and extremely cutesy legend: "Cats are little people in fur coats." So I wonder if this entitles me to throw red paint at her callously sophisticated pets when they try to devour my feet during the night?