She flattened the bottom of her outfit with pure pride.
A couple of parents gave us warm smiles when they caught sight of it.
Right then, the awful moment went down.
A lady sporting massive expensive shades stepped directly in our path.
She glared at Sophie’s outfit. Then she let out a loud, nasty chuckle.
“Oh my goodness,” she remarked to the other families standing close by. “Did you seriously stitch that outfit yourself?”
I bobbed my head. “I sure did.”
She inspected Sophie like she was judging a really awful arts and crafts project.
“You realize,” the lady mentioned in a fake sweet tone, “there are households out there that could offer her an actual life. Perhaps you ought to consider giving her up for adoption.”
The entire sports hall went dead quiet.
Sophie’s fingers squeezed mine super hard.
I felt my cheeks get incredibly hot.
Before I even had a chance to reply, the lady angled her head and tossed in a little chuckle.
“How completely sad.”
For a quick second, I literally lost my words. I was desperately trying to come up with a polite and grown-up response.
But right then, the lady’s little boy yanked on her shirt arm.
His sticky label stated his name was “Toby.”
“Mom,” he announced clearly.
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