there's a little churro cart outside of the supermarket that my dad loves. so when he's here, we go.
he calls them chimichangas. it doesn't matter how many times i correct him. they're still chimichangas. but whatever. most dominicans don't know what churros are anyway, since they're a mexican postre. they're typically referred to as palitos. or sticks.
we went to the cart yesterday after picking up the new fan for samil's room. i'm not a big fan of random strangers telling me what to do with samil. especially when it pertains to something that babies do. you know, stick things in their mouths, chew on things, cry.
the woman standing next to me at the counter looks over and very matter of factly says, "straighten him out." i say nothing. she says again "oh, the poor baby, you're going to curve his spine."
i've learned to hold my tongue. i don't look. i don't say anything. so she says really sarcastically, "well, he's your son."
to which i respond, "exactly."
seriously, your advice is obviously unwanted. it was definitely unsolicited. and you apparently realize that samil is my son, not yours - but you keep talking? what?
so she looks over at amalio, then at my dad, at samil and then me. and says, "i have three kids."
congratulations i tell her.
"i'm just letting you know. from experience. you're going to curve his spine."
i look over, see her perfectly straight-spined children. "oh, so one of your kids has a curved spine. wow. i'll let you know if it happens to mine."
apparently i pissed her off, because she left the cart with only half of her original order. but really, people. if you see i'm not interested in your back-woods, mountain advice, stop talking. if i was interested i would have answered. or stopped samil from reaching for the napkins - the action which apparently is going to curve his spine.
i passed samil to amalio. he's better at the advice than i am.