PostHeaderIcon I Hate Mean, Old People

By Jael Strong

I hate mean, old people. Ok, not really. My warm, glowing ball of love burns less brightly for mean, old people. Let me explain why this is so.

Jackson is not small; he has never been small. At twelve years of age, he stands five foot ten inches and wears a size thirteen shoe. He also is not tiny around the waist. He’s getting taller and his waist is not getting bigger, and his doctor says not to worry. So, what’s the problem?

There is an elderly lady that has been a family friend for years. She invariably asks Jackson what he has been eating and then makes some sort of comment about how he must love food. I tell Jackson to shrug it off. She’s old. I don’t want to fight an old lady!

What kills me, and he does not notice, is that she is constantly shoveling food into his mouth and then following up with a snide comment about weight. And she is not alone. As I write, I can think of at least a half dozen other older individuals that pull the same dirty trick. Why give a child a big bowl of ice cream then tell him that he’s too fat to enjoy eating it!

I don’t think there’s a solution to this problem. If I draw attention to it each time this offense occurs, I may be hurting Jackson more, especially if he doesn’t notice the slight. On the other hand, my sense of justice tells me this should not go unpunished. Then again, one shouldn’t verbally attack an older person, and I don’t want Jackson to be in the habit of jumping on people every time they say something he doesn’t like. So, I guess, we’ll both just have to sit pretty and smile while we enjoy a nice pie provided by the aforementioned old lady.

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