As I’ve described previously, my eldest niece isn’t nearly as responsible as she might pretend. For one, she has a tendency to con relatives out of money and never even try to pay it back. Then there’s her anti-vaccination beliefs.
I want you to consider the ramifications of not having one’s children vaccinated: they may not give your vaccinated kids any diseases, but they’ll sure as hell grow up sick much of the time, and often this can have deadly consequences. In fact, diseases previously thought vanquished in the 20th century are now making a comeback, no thanks to the anti-vaccination movement that uses fear and ignorance to scare otherwise loving parents into avoiding getting kids their shots. Scare tactics include, but are not limited to, claims—false, by the way—that vaccination is linked to certain forms of autism.
None of this is to suggest that Mallory doesn’t love her children or that she’s being deliberately cruel. She does, and she’s not. But buying into the unfounded assertions of fear-and-ignorance-based groups is putting her kids into a situation that will ultimately do them more harm in life than good. That is irresponsible.
Now, however, five and a half years after she conned me out of three hundred dollars (money I’ll never see again), she’s apparently asking my estranged younger “brother” if she and her family can move in with him.
Even David is hesitant, assuming this is true, and for good reason: there are already three people dwelling in Dad’s house. Can you imagine adding an additional five, and their dogs and cats? I honestly don’t know what she was thinking when she made the request, assuming David isn’t exaggerating or lying like he tends to do.
Mallory’s my niece and, despite all she’s pulled, I do love her, but she really needs to start thinking realistically about certain things.
On an unrelated note, last night on the way home from CSU’s campus, as I hopped onto the down-traveling escalator (What does one call it when it goes down and not up?), I happened to see a gentleman in front of me who, from behind, looked startlingly similar to Dad, complete with bald spot and beard. Needless to say, this had me weeping on the train back to where I’m staying. Over, what? four or five months and I’m still grieving. I expect I will for a very, very long time.