Curiosity or…I Don’t Even Know If There’s a Word for It

So last night, after working my shift at the gym teaching the littles, Marissa offered to go upstairs to the kiddie area to pick up the boys for me.  (That girl is always offering to help!)
But when she came back downstairs with the boys in tow, she had the strangest look on her face.  I asked her what was wrong, and she said, “I think that lady’s a stalker or something.”  (That was 10-year-old speak for, ‘Something weird just went down.’)
When we got outside, I asked her why she thought that, and THEN she proceeded to tell me about the conversation interrogation she got when she went upstairs to pick up her little brothers.   Um, that lady just better be glad she got hold of little sister instead of Mama Bear, who happens to be WAY more vocal, but anyway, here’s the story.
Marissa went inside the kids’ area to pick up the boys, and the girl working there started up a conversation that went a little something like this:
Girl: Umm, are those, like, your brothers or something?
Marissa: Yes, I’m picking them up for my mom.
Girl:  Are they, like, Mexican or what?
Marissa: (At this point, HOPEFULLY looking at the girl like she’s a freaking alien for even asking.)  Um, nooo.  They are from Guatemala.  (Mommy, would have tagged a ‘Dumbass’ onto the end of that, but Marissa is too nice and way too young to say that.)
Girl:  Well, are your parents married?
Narrator Interlude:  (What the ever-loving fuck?)
Marissa:  Yes.
Girl:  Do you all have, like, the same dad or what?
Narrator Interlude:  (Repeats previous thought.)
Marissa:  (Probably thinking this is getting really freaky at this point, because dude, all she needed to do was pick up her little brothers, not fill out a flippin’ census report.)  Yeah.  Um, I’m just picking them up for my mom.  She works downstairs.
Girl:  Ohhhh!  Now, I know who they are.
Marissa:  (Thinking to self, My momma’s gonna kick your ass.)  Yeah, we gotta go.
End of conversation.
Um, what is WRONG with people?  I understand curiosity, but most people (and I emphasize most) will stop at one or two really dumb questions, and usually they will not make them quite so invasive.  I’m not exactly sure what makes people feel entitled to ask these personal questions, but it’s quite clear that I need to equip Marissa with Mommy’s list of standard answers.  They come in quite handy when people ask really, really ridiculous questions regarding her little brothers.
Below you will find a list of the most common questions we have received regarding the boys and the answers I really enjoy giving when I’m feeling the most devious:
Q.  Where did you get them?
A.  We picked them up over in Aisle 4.  (This one is handy if you are approached by strangers in the grocery store.)
Q.  What are they?
A.  They are actually small replicas of real walking, talking humans, except at night, we can take out their batteries, and they don’t give us nearly as much hassle.
Q.  How much did they cost?
A.  Well, they are actually quite pricey, but if you go for two, you can usually get a quantity discount.  (This one is fun, because we do, in fact, have TWO.)
Q.  Do they speak English?
A.  Only when they are not speaking Swahili.  (What the hell else are they going to speak?  Do you see them surrounded by the Cracker Brigade here?  And we are all speaking…hmmm…English.)
Of course, if none of these answers feel comfortable at the time, I can always just opt to look at people as if they have grown a second head.  That usually works, too.

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