Who's my daddy?

So the other day Tom and I went in to pick up our Chinese food that we ordered from the very yummy local Chinese restaurant. This isn't any ordinary Chinese place though - it's AWESOME! We don't eat there often, only when we really want a treat. For $15 you can come out with a box full of food (usually the box is one that used to carry a case of Bud Light but they don't sell alcohol here - hum...) oh, and there's a giant mural of horses frolicking in a field with Chinese writing that Tom swears says "we make our food with nothing but the best horse". BUT, none the less, it's our favorite place and they have the health inspection things posted so we know that it's all good. Anyway, so we go in on Saturday night. We're standing in line to tell the lady our phone number (that's how they recognize your order, probably because they would BUTCHER your name if you had to spell it) and there's a little girl, maybe 5, behind the counter. She looks at Tom and I and starts giggle. I look back thinking that there is something behind me, but nothing. She starts talking to the lady at the register (in the same screaming manner that the people cooking the food talk) and both start laughing. When we get up to the counter, the older lady says to me "she think you looked Chinese, what you phone number". Um, okay. I've never heard that before!