On a regular basis, Boomer and I pass a group of young kids playing across the street. These kids run up to Boomer and pet him and talk gibberish to me. A few months back, I guess I was wearing a t-shirt for the first time and the little boy was shocked by my arm and ran away. After that he never came up to pet Boomer.
Boomer and I walk up, kids run to pet, etc etc. The following conversation unfolds
Little girl: What happened to your hand?
Me: I was born like that, just like you were born with brown hair
Little girl: I think the doctor made a mistake
Little boy (who hasn't spoken to me in months): Why didn't the doctor cut off your leg too?
I don't exactly recall my response but it was something like "the doctor didn't cut off my arm, I was born that way" or something equally polite because that's exactly how I wanted to respond.
Eventually I walked away with Boomer but not before the little girl could yell "I hope your arm gets better!"
Me too kid, me too.