I am not surprised by the stares I get when I go out with this lot. I mean, really, who wouldn't? I'm used to the giggles, the double-takes, and the pointed fingers. I can laugh when a mother with one or two toddlers considers me with nothing short of horror (or awe).But the thing that I will never find less than bizarre are those people -- and I meet them every time I'm out for more than 20 minutes -- who ask me,
"Are they all yours?"
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