from the mouth of babes

I was down to the last five seconds of the sprint at the end of my run when I passed an 8-year-old boy on a scooter.

"Why are you running so fast?"

As I caught my breath I answered, "So I can get faster."

"Oh," he replied. "I thought someone was hurt or something. Ya know, you were running for help."

"No, I was just running because I like to."

"Do you live there?" He pointed at my apartment building a block down the street.

"Yep."

"At Haley's place, right?"

"Huh?"

"Aren't you Haley's mom?"

"No, I am not."