"Mia, why did you cook a whole table of spicy food again? How many times have I told you, Jessica doesn't eat spicy food!"
Mia glared at me, raising her voice.
"I slave away in the kitchen for you, and now I'm wrong for doing that? Is Jessica the only one who needs to eat in this house? Does everyone else not need to eat? So, everyone has to cater to just her, huh?"
She pointed to a small dish of vegetable salad at the edge of the table.
"Isn't this dish not spicy? Can't she just eat that?"
I was almost driven to laughter by the absurdity of it all. Out of eight dishes on the table, only one wasn't spicy, and it was just a plain salad.
Just as I was about to start yelling, Jessica tugged on my hand.
"Mom, it's okay. I can eat a little bit of spicy food. Don't get upset."
With that, she obediently placed my slippers by my feet and, still carrying her backpack, sat down at the table.
Mia let out a mocking laugh, lifting her chin like a triumphant rooster.
"Jessica said she can eat it, so why are you, as her mother, making such a fuss? So pretentious."
With that, she turned and went back to the kitchen.