I wish I were as clever as he is...

I meant to post this ages ago, but just kept forgetting, so please do me the favour of setting your mind back about 6 weeks. It is just barely feeling springy out and we decided to head downtown for breakfast at Cora's.

I am standing in line wearing Orin in the Moby and waiting to pay. A woman in her late 50s or early 60s queues up behind me. She starts ogling the baby, as everyone does. When she notices the tube in his nose, she asks, as so many do, if he has a hard time breathing. I explain that it is a feeding tube, that he has a kidney condition that causes him to dehydrate and that we use the tube to put extra water into him. I mention, in a half-hearted attempt to cut her off before she could ask any of the predictable questions, that he doesn't take a bottle yet. She nods thoughtfully. We go back to our waiting stance. A few seconds later, she pipes up, asking, "How does he eat if he doesn't take a bottle?"
It takes me a second to process what she was asking. I respond as kindly as possible (because I am the type to wear my emotions openly and I want to avoid my incredulity embarrassing her), "Oh, he is breastfed." She stammers a little, apparently taken aback by my response, and suddenly seems to be totally engrossed in something in the far corner of the restaurant.
When I get outside, I tell Dave about our exchange. Without missing a beat, he blurts out, "Photosynthesis." I cock an eyebrow and allow this to sink in. I laugh heartily when I realise this is how he feels I SHOULD have answered "how does he eat?"
I really wish I could think of things like that as quickly as he does. A baby seems to make people think they have carte blanche to ask whatever they want (like my friend with twins who is asked regularly by complete strangers if they were conceived naturally or via fertility treatments), so having a few zingers like that in my pocket to be used as necessary would lead to a little less annoyance and a little more satisfaction on my part.