When I was a baby, my non-biological mother, Donna, would carry me on her hip on outings and strangers would invariably come up to us, assuming that Donna was my biological mother. “What a cute baby!”, they’d beam. “Yes, we’re very proud of her,” Donna would reply, or words to that effect.
Then noting that I looked Japanese and Donna didn’t, they’d remark, “She must take after her father”, to which Donna would smoothly answer, “oh no, she has a strong resemblance to her mother”. Even after many long seconds passed, the confused looks rarely resolved into a “oh they’re lesbian parents” realisation.