Whenever my daughter sees one of these warning signs she points a finger and says: "Ha! Whose idea of a child is that? Look at those muscles -- that's an Olympic athlete!"

But no, I say, those aren't the thighs of a long distance skater, that's just a stout child wearing the short, bulky britches favored by boys rolling hoops down Main Street at the turn of the 20th century, and he's got himself a nice warm sweater. (The right hand is, I confess, a bit troublesome; if he's not wearing a baseball glove this child must count lobsters in his ancestry.)

Whatever the case it's a waste of a good sign; with that 12 foot running stride, what's the chances of hitting one of the little buggers anyway?