Two shoes . . . need two shoes.

It's 9:00 in the morning here and I've banished my children to outside play.  They helped me to bake some banana macadamia nut almond bread and it'll soon be 90 degrees, so now is the time to send the gingers out for some sun.  Kaiya, the 8 year old drama queen, was outside before I could finish my sentence.  Ronin was entranced by Angry Birds, so it took a bit of prodding.  Tanith, my Princess Thunderfoot, stomped through in one pink sneaker.  The other foot was bare.  I told her that she needed two shoes, and she returned with a black dress shoe and an orange Chuck Taylor while still wearing the pink sneaker, mumbling about how she needed two shoes.  We put the orange Chuck on her left foot and she stomped out to the swingset, singing about how she has two "mashing" shoes.

She just returned, threw on a Batman cape, and informed me, "I am the night!"

Conversations with strangers

Almost every time I leave the house with all three children (which is often), a bystander isn't scared off by appearances or behavior (slightly less often), and the bystanders want to be social or ask questions, I encounter some variance of this conversation.

Bystander: Are they all yours? (While looking around and counting)
Me: Yep.
Bystander: Wow.  They sure are full of energy  How old are they?
Me: Small is 2, Medium is 5, and Large is 8.
Bystander: (counting again) How old are you?
Me: 83 . . . I mean 30.
Bystander: (counting) Wow, I thought you were a lot younger.
Me: Thanks?

It makes me wonder a few things.  Do they think I wandered around town, gathering up stray children who look alike?  Do they think I started having kids at 12?  Do I really look that young, or are they just being nice to make up for the fact that they just asked my age?