I make a double sound with every step you take across the hot summer sand. I am the simplest footwear for a beach vacation, named after the noise I make. What am I?

What did the enthusiastic frost say to the morning windowpane?

I am a coat that you never wear outside. I am put on just before you go to sleep. What am I?

I make and repair shoes for tiny green-clad leprechauns, but if you bake me in an oven with fruit and a pastry crust, I become a warm dessert. What am I?

I am sharpened by pressure and shaved as I work; my black core speaks only when pressed to a page. Though I wear a pink crown to undo what I say, every stroke makes me shorter for the student who writes. What am I?

If an electric train is traveling south at 80 miles per hour, which way is the smoke blowing?

I am a fantastic multitasker who can easily hold two things at once, yet I completely lack any fingers.