Yesterday I was at Macy's home department just after it opened at 10am. The only people in the store were me and Lucy and the entire retirement community of Seattle talking about the firmness of their down pillows and whether their husbands snore and what thread count was nicer.
As I was waiting for some customer service help a nice older couple was in front of me in line to return something (even if I didn't already know they were old, I could tell by the way they kept calling the receipt a "sale slip"). They spent some of the waiting cooing at Lucy.
At one point the old man - can I just add here that he seemed to be a normal person and have all of his faculties - asked "How old is he?" And I paused. Because Lucy was wearing strappy girl shoes, dark pink pants and a light pink sweater. But then I thought, well, whatever, maybe the old guy is color blind and said, "This is Lucy. She's eight months old."
To which the gentleman replied "He sure is a BIG boy!"