She's a Witch

Last week I took Austin with me to Sam's club. I noticed as we passed the milk he was whispering to himself, "she's a witch" over and over. I turned my head and noticed the lady walking behind me. I had to stop myself from audibly gasping. Her face was long and haggard, her hair black and greasy, streaked with thick gray lines. Her eyes had that angry look and I swear her nose was crooked. Other than that she was in jeans and a frumpy t-shirt but I couldn't fault the kid for thinking she was a witch. Especially this time of year. I quickly turned a corner and tried to tell him to stop saying that. He said, "but mom, she's a witch." I honestly couldn't think of what to say. The usual, "that's not a nice thing to say," just wouldn't come out. He wasn't being mean or unnecessarily judgemental, he was just stating what he thought was the obvious. If I was three, I would have thought she was a witch too. I decided there was no lesson that could be taught here about speaking kindly, etc. So instead, I pushed the cart away as fast as I could.