My own sister has this strange characteristic. She exalts her child excessively and believes that those around her should experience the same things as she does. But that’s obviously not the case.
Her child is only five years old. I have nothing against it – we all love him, of course, as next of kin, but nothing more. We have enough to worry about with our own kids.
My sister, on the other hand, has been telling herself that her daughter is a very rare, special child. We must address him as an angel. And as angels do not sin – everything that this angel has done we must necessarily forgive.
Well, at least this is what she herself wants. That’s why no one is particularly amused when she comes to visit. And to go to her own, too, in fact, not particularly comfortable. That’s just as it happens that we are not only sisters, but also female employees, so work in the same firm. That’s why I also needed to discuss something.
– Come over,” my sister said on the phone. – I’ll make your favorite omelet. I’ll see you at lunchtime.
Yes, she was a master in the kitchen, especially her signature omelet.
I’ll be right there,” I briefly promised and hung up.
I ran off in search of my car keys. I think I’ll stop on the way to get some goodies at the bakery. I’m sure I can’t do without tea. Well, I arrived in general, and she sits and feeds her child, gesturing for me to join them at the table. So I sit down, one thing led to another, and then she tells me:
– “Eat,” she says, pushing aside a plate of visibly shabby omelet. – Monica didn’t finish it.
That’s where it got me:
– Do they not keep clean plates in the house these days? – I asked, barely restraining my emotions.
– My Monica is the cleanest child. And her hands are always the cleanest,” my sister replied, pulling the baby closer to her as he sat picking his nose.
That was it, and after that I snorted and never went to my sister’s house for lunch again.
What would you do if you were me?
