Sometimes I'm the most judgmental person I know.
I'm shelving "holds" (book, movie and music requests) at my library branch when a woman comes to the checkout computer with four kids in tow. The oldest one of them couldn't have been more than seven. Four kids! In 2023.
So I'm in my hypocritical mode--not even bringing religion/birth control into the picture--thinking, like Jimmy Stewart in It's a Wonderful Life, "Mary! Do we have to have all these kids?" Hey, my Mom was one of four and my Dad had seven siblings, but it doesn't count; that was the 1920s and '30s in America. Times are/should be different now. Yeah, that's how I'm justifying my justifying.
Shame on me, eh? But I'm glad I was paying attention as I wheeled my metal book cart around: out of nowhere, a fifth child zipped out from behind the nearby post.