It’s Not A Playful Matter

(I am a Hispanic female married to an Italian man. We both have dark eyes and hair. Our two-year-old, however, has wildly curly blond hair and a fair complexion. We also have a brunette and a redhead. We are buying back-to-school supplies and toys for our three kids. We are putting our purchases on the belt, which includes a small baby doll our toddler has chosen, when the woman behind us says:)

Customer:  “Whoa, hey you got the wrong baby there!”

Me: “Haha, I know, she doesn’t look like either of us, but I assure you I gave birth to her.”

Customer: “No, I meant the doll she has. She’s holding a dark baby. She shouldn’t have a black baby. You’re white. Have them get you a white baby.”

(I’m speechless for a minute. I’ve never witnessed such brutal public ignorance before. My seven-year-old son interjects with a very smart “But she picked a brown baby not a black one.”  Way to go, kiddo.)

Me: *coming to my senses* “He’s right. Besides, our daughter picked it out herself and is already in love. There’s no way I’m taking it away from her to satisfy a stranger’s need to have everyone match. Get with the times and stop being ignorant.”

Customer: “…” *gets out of line*

Me: *quietly to the cashier* “Ella loca.” *she’s crazy*

Cashier: “Jajajajaja.”