When I was growing up, my parents would occasionally head out for the evening, leaving my sister and me in the hands of the local "Babysitting Club." It was a routine arrangement, but one night, I decided to be a bit more selective with the "staffing."
As my mum was preparing to leave, I chimed in with what I thought was a casual request: "Could we have the blonde woman this time, rather than the brunette?"
Mum stopped, gave me a long, piercing look, and didn't miss a beat.
"Well," she remarked dryly, "in that case, maybe you’re finally old enough to stay home alone."
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