Upbringing

I’m not quite sure how I landed up with such a serious chest infection that I must devote a separate post to it altogether, but that’s how I happened to be at a neighbouring clinic yesterday in the evening.

[I’m supposed to be working, as usual, therefore am blogging.]

The former clinic manager was a student at one of the hospitality colleges my aunt worked at. Thus she had formed a rapport with him, and the staff there. The manager has moved on to better prospects, but there are a few more of her ex-students working in the administration of the clinic.

It just so happened that, after my consultation with the ENT, he happened to walk in with his family in tow: wife and young son. My mum and aunt are quite pro-child, so they tried to interact with him. He was having none of it. I didn’t try anything, and he and I were extremely happy not to have to interact with each other. [Again, my terror of small children deserves its own post.]

On our way out, my mom tried speaking to the little guy, but to no avail. I took pity on him, because his parents were valiantly and unsuccessfully trying to get him to interact. So I said: “Leave the poor guy alone. When I was his age, I didn’t want to talk to strange adults either! In fact, I detested interacting with over-friendly older people.”

Not to be outdone, mum turns around and says: “What a badly brought up so-and-so you are!” with an incredibly deadpan expression.

It took a few moments for the import of what she had said to sink in with the others, but I was already in peals of laughter. Point mum!

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