Adopted again

So, I am at the grocery store, and my daughter wants a free cookie sample from the deli. I wheel the cart over with my youngest daughter inside. There are no cookies out and I am about to tell my daughters this when the lady behind the counter sees them. She offers them both a cookie and then has tells me they are beautiful girls.

She should have shut her dumb redneck mouth at that point. She then tells me that there is another couple that come in sometimes with A-D-O-P-T-E-D kids. She then asks if they are S-I-S-T-E-R-S. All I can do is grin and nod as I want to reach over and rip the ladies eyes out of her head.

Yes, my children look exotic. They have a darker skin complexion and almond shaped eyes. The both have my exact color of brown hair, the oldest one in curls. Not just any curls but matching crazy curl tangles the mimic my own hair. The oldest looks least Asian, but the youngest looks more like me. I guess A-D-O-P-T-E-D kids kind of start looking like their new parents after a while.

The part that pissed me off is that she didn't even ask; she just assumed. Then to spell out words in front of my 5 year old, who is starting to break that code already, that could pass for a 7 year old size wise. The poor Asian adoptees may learn to speak English but they will never be able to spell in it. Idiots!

Why, you ask, does this piss me off? Because they are mine and I am proud they are mine. Like Mr. Sinister in the X-Men, I am proud of genetic experimentation. If I altered the genome correctly, they should be superior to just Caucasian and Asian people. I will call this new race Cauc. . . Crap the word Caucasian already has the word Asian in it.

They are my kids, my seed. Their beauty and brains come at least partially from me. I will take credit for it.

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