Something baffling and hilarious happened the other night. It was a rare night where Peter was home from work earlier than 10 minutes before B goes to bed. So we were sitting on our front patio, enjoying the lovely 72 degrees and a glass of wine.

A neighbor who I recognize, but haven’t met (and probably won’t based on what happened next) walked by as she normally does in the evenings. Bay was being Bay and running around climbing into the chair, back out and then up onto the bench Peter and I were sitting on and then back. As our neighbor walked by we said hello, she responded and then smiled nicely and said “Are they twins?”

Perplexed, but trying not to be jerks, Peter and I smiled as we were clearly stumped. Were who twins? Us? The bench and the chair? Our dogs? About 5 seconds later, we realized she couldn’t quite see over the small wall that surrounds the patio and had thought our freakishly fast-moving 20 month old was 2 kids instead of one. So we explained that no, she’s just fast. The neighbor laughed and headed on her way.

I’d like to think she kept moving out of embarrassment and not out of pity for having a Tasmanian devil for a daughter.