You know that the kid is mine...

When you are out on a Tuesday morning at the nexus of every stay at home mom's universe (SuperTarget) and you hear a sharp squeal accompanied by a pitter-pat, pitter-pat, clomp, clomp, then you turn to see a wiry little guy wearing a pair of sweatpants with a button-up oxford shirt and cowboy boots being chased by a smaller version of himself - barefoot - in a fancy silk dress with legwarmers, kept warm by her bear-hooded jacket and disguised by a red superhero mask, crazily waving a bag of organic cheese puffs, you know those kids are mine. So sorry for the commotion.