My kids are fair skinned, and my H is not. H used to get asked all the time by random moms and dads at the park if he was the baby’s biological father. One time, a lady followed that up with, “Are you SURE you’re the father?”
I’m also an older mom, so of course I got the questions (or assumptions) about being the baby’s grandmother or nanny.
Now that I think back, I actually used to get a kick out of answering those questions with gory details about my kids’ homebirths. 
My kids are all adopted, but my oldest son really resembles my husband, so much so, that someone asked me if I was sure he wasn’t the biological father.
This struck me as funny. We’re going on a cruise with friends. We will be flying down to Florida next Thursday morning. Our friend asked if we had finished our packing list yet. HA HA HA HA! I told him we’ll be throwing stuff in a suitcase late Wednesday night. And we won’t be sleeping much between now and then. That’s what happens when you’re self-employed! He’s retired from the Navy.
My H, doing laundry, was reading the label on his clothes:
“This says 100% cotton AND 100% algodon. How can it be 100% of two different things?!”
I had to explain it to the PhD that algodon is Spanish for cotton.
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