We get quite a few looks when we're out and about. Double stroller with two big kids holding onto each side. They've created a little chant to help them remember the rule for outings: "Put your hand on the stroller and stay close to your mother."
Today, we went to Super Wal-Mart. The elderly greeter physically stopped me and with a smile said, "Whoa! I have to know: which ones are yours?" I smiled (I get this a lot) and said, "They all are!" He kept on (most don't). "So, you adopted? That is wonderful!"
Then he looks at them all again and asked, "But which ones are yours?" (Rarely does anyone persist this far.) I replied, "They're all mine. Do you mean, which ones did I give birth to? These three (pointing to the blondes)."
At this point, he looked me straight in the eyes and said, "God will bless you, do you believe that?" Of course, I said, "Oh He already has!"
He gave me a huge smile and, with a strong East Indian accent, said, "I am so proud of you! I know I don't know you, but I am just . . . 10,000 times proud!"
Mark Twain said, "I can live two months on a good compliment." I agree.
(For the record, I really prefer more than that. Thank you very much!)