(This story comes courtesy of Miss Snark, an aliased literary agent and former blogger whose website, dark since 2007, remains a font of knowledge for writers.)
A man is herding his five children in a city park. All five are close in age, and of clearly varied racial and ethnic backgrounds. A tightly coiffed matron stops to view the children playing.
She says, “What darling children. Are they all yours?”
“Yes, they are,” replies the father.
“Which ones are adopted?” inquires the woman.
“I don’t really remember,” the father says. “Once they’re yours you kind of forget how they got here.”