(I’m taking care of my younger sister, who is 10. We’re having a movie night, and are grabbing some snacks at a nearby store. I am 19 and female.)
Me: “Okay, pick out what you want.”
Sister: “Can I have whatever I want?”
Me: “Of course! You can pick out anything.”
(Another customer notices my sister picking out some candy.)
Customer: “Humph! You should be ashamed of yourself.”
Me: “Excuse me, ma’am?”
Customer: “Having a child at your age. It’s disgraceful. And now you’re wasting your welfare money on junk food. It’s your fault the economy is so terrible.”
Me: “I’m afraid you’re mistaken. She’s not my daughter, she’s my sister. I’m babysitting for the night.”
Customer: “That’s just the lie you tell people so you don’t get strange looks. I’ll bet your kid’s spoiled rotten.”
Me: “Actually, she is my sister. This is our night to have fun together. And I’m not on welfare. I actually work part time, and have a large scholarship for the university I attend. My sister isn’t spoiled. She’s very sweet and very smart.”
Customer: “You’d like to think that wouldn’t you?”
(My little sister interjects by talking to me.)
Sister: “How old are you?”
Me: “I’m 19.”
Sister: “And I’m 10. If I was your baby, you’d be a mom at nine, right?”
Me: “That’s right.”
Sister: “She can’t be my mom. She’s not old enough. Maybe you should get new glasses.”
(The other customer sputters for a moment, then walks away.)
Me: “I think we should get some ice cream too.”
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