"Est-Ce Qu'elle Est Mignon?" and Other Important Questions

After volunteering all of last week (more on that later), I came back home to a bag of overdue library books. Being the oaf that I am, I'd taken out a book that had a week limit and kept it for more than 2 weeks. I rushed to the library and payed $16 of my $25 fines... However, what was significant was the trip to the library. More importantly, the elevator trip to the second floor of the building that the library is in.

I would've preferred this to the awkwardness that will ensue...

I walked into the library and dashed into the elevator feeling like a boss for catching it before the door closed because that meant I'd reduced 5 minutes of time waiting for the elevator because I refuse to take the stairs and burn calories. Of course, that feeling of success was shortlived. There was a cute Asian kid standing next to his very pregnant mother and they were speaking French. I know that shouldn't be surprising seeing as I live in Canada and all that but I found him surprisingly more endearing because he was a kid WHO ACTUALLY SPOKE French (and yes, it's my all-time favorite language after British, Irish, and Australian english accents. I know they're not languages, begone fiend!). I smiled at him and he whispered something garbled to his mother who responded with a question. She asked him est-ce qu'elle est mignon? which roughly translates into is she nice? Of course, the little snot finally found his voice as he yelled at her with much conviction: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOON and proceeded to laugh as if she'd said the funniest thing since idioms.

 This is exactly how I wished to reply to that little piece of poo angel.

 Instead I yelled out, WHAT? I'M NOT? and gave him one of those jokingly-stern looks. Of course, the mother peered at me strangely and I realized that they hadn't understood that I was addressing his response to her question about me. I meekly mumbled something incoherent about him being adorable and was that FRENCH he was speaking? Needless to say, it was one of those moments when I felt that I could do some damaging physical harm to someone had I not been afraid of the damage to my reputation. I was angry because I couldn't help but wonder what it was about me that wasn't nice. Kids are usually such great judges of character and I found myself mulling over the fact that someone who was supposed to be able to see the potential goodness in people hadn't seen it in me and for the next couple of days I kept stressing out over that moment. My faith in humanity has subsided a bit and I'm not so sure if mean people are born or nurtured. 

One good thing that came out of this is that I've regained confidence in my French skills and I also take the stairs wherever I go to avoid being stuck with annoying kids and their mothers.