Another not-your-baby conversation

Yesterday I had my most rewarding not-your-baby conversation to date.  Mostly because of the interruption.

I was in a fabric shop downtown, wearing Buttercup while the other two were in school.  There was a woman helping me with the fabric, and an older man at the front counter doing accounts.  The woman seemed more curious than malicious, and I would have supplied more information, but as I tell my daughter all the time, if you are talking all the time then you don't have any chance to listen.

Lady: Is that your baby?

Me: Yes, she is.

Lady: No!!  She your baby?

Me: Yes.

Lady: She your baby?

Me: Yes.  (debating adding more explanation, but --)

Lady: Her father African?

Me: Yes, he is.  (Her birth father is certainly African.)

Lady: Oh, her father African?

Me: Yes.

Lady: Her father African?

Me: Yes.

Lady: Oh, her father African.

(short pause while we actually discuss fabrics)

Lady: Is that your baby?

Me: Yes, she is.

Lady: Really, she your baby?

Man at front of store, annoyed: Stop asking her if it is her baby!  She has already told you it is her baby!  Now stop asking her!

Me (manages not to cheer out loud)

At this point the lady decides to accept her version on events.  She notices Buttercup asking for something in her blend of vocabulary, and asks: She speak Luganda? or she speak English?

Me: She speaks both, and she mixes them all up together because she's still little.  (And I answer Buttercup in Luganda.)

Lady, approvingly: That is the best way.

And she gives Buttercup a packet of biscuits.