Passover Easter

One of the kids in the (mostly Jewish)school where I work asked me if I was Jewish. I responded 'half' and he looked at me in a way that implied that I had lost it completely, burst into uncontrollable giggles, and ran off to crumble crackers and spill juice with the rest of his kindergarten cronies.
I can understand that.
I never know how to answer that question. If I say yes I feel like a liar. I've never been in a synagogue, I go to church every Sunday, and the extent of my knowledge of Judaism is that I can tell a matzoh from a challah.
But there's no way I could ever say no either, not with my Jewish father and my Jewish nose and hair and my Jewish last name.
So 'half' is the best I can do without launching into a long-winded explanation of my personal belief system which no one wants to hear, least of all 5-year-olds.
Makes me miss the days when it was all about the chocolate bunnies.