This morning we set off on another short outing (milk again, and some canning supplies). I knew it would be a good time to go to our grocery store as it was still before noon and there would be plenty of the kiddie carts available. You know, the ones sort of shaped like vehicles wherein toddlers can sit and presumably pretend to be racing through the store. Sunshine is so intense about the steering wheel on that cart that it makes me dread her getting behind the wheel in fifteen years. 😉 Anyway, off we went. As we made our way down one aisle an elderly woman watched us pass and looked intrigued. I don’t exactly remember the start of the conversation– she said something like “You must have a lot of helpers” which was pretty apt considering Princess had just decided to add some mayonnaise to the cart, and that wasn’t on our list. The conversation continued:
WOMAN: “Are they all yours?”
ME (smiling indulgently at my helpers): “Yes, yes, they are all ours.”
WOMAN (smiles and shakes her head): “Well, that would have been beyond my capability, let me tell you.”
I didn’t have a chance to respond nor did she have a chance to tell me anything else because at this moment, Rascal chimed in. He had been listening to the conversation and must have thought that the next logical question after “are they all yours” must be “where do they come from?” because he decided to share his tailored-to-6-year-old knowledge of the facts of life in one short sentence–practically shouted, it seemed at the time….
RASCAL: “YOU HAFTA BE MARRIED TO HAVE BABIES!”
The lady had begun to move on by then, and I didn’t waste my time grabbing the necessary items off the shelf and going our way, either. 😉