My Internal Filter Has Called It Quits

Today, we were at Panera, enjoying our weekly bagel routine, when I started up a conversation with the boys.*

"Hey guys, I'm reading this book about Jesus, and did you know that many people believe he was born in May, not December?  Apparently, Galilee in December is not when you'd find shepherds out in the pasture, tending their sheep."

So that leads them on a tangent about Jesus and the stories they've heard growing up.

P:  "I remember when you told me about Jesus healing that blind man by spitting in his eye.  I can't believe He actually spit in his eye.  He could've just licked His hand and rubbed the guy's eye."

Me:  "What?!?  I didn't tell you any story about Jesus spitting in anyone's eye.  You're making things up."

P:  "No mom, you told me He spit in his eye."

We went back and forth, P trying to convince me that I told him that, and me trying to convince him that he had selective listening issues.

BH, who apparently had had his fill of religious talk, breaks in.

BH:  "Do you guys have to keep talking about this here?  We're in public, and all people keep hearing you say is 'yes he did spit in his eye' and 'no he didn't spit in his eye.'"

Ok, I guess he had a point.  So we stopped talking about spitting.

A few minutes later, M has a small coughing fit.  He's been gunky lately, getting over a cold.

Me:  "M, do you want to try a nasal rinse today?  I think you might need one."

M (way more excited than he should be):  "Yeah!  I want to do it!"

Me:  "I don't know, maybe you're still too young.  (Turning to L), L how old were you when we started your nasal rinses?"

Again, BH breaks in, with a half-exasperated, half-irritated look on his face.

BH:  "Really?  You're talking talking about nasal rinses now???"

Me (feeling censored):  "Ok, fine, we'll stop talking about that too."

A few more minutes go by, and P holds his lower lip out and calls to me.

P:  "Mom, look you can see my scar, it makes a Y.  And when I smile, you can see a lump.  Do you think it'll ever go away?"

Me:  "I don't think so, it's scar tissue.  It's no big deal, girls will think it's fascinating."

P:  "But why do I have the lump?  Can we go back and get it cut out so that it doesn't show?"

Me:  "Nooo, you'll end up with more scar tissue, and it'll just feel thicker there.  You could also end up with a dent if they cut out too much."

It was just about that time when I realized I had done it again.  Surprisingly, BH never cut in with a glare and a comment.  I'm pretty sure that's because he wanted nothing more to do with us at that point. 

Realizing that I was bordering on the gruesome, I quickly ended the discussion with P and changed the subject to the kids' Christmas lists.

Which I'm pretty sure made everyone in the surrounding booths want to gouge their eyes out.

Making his Christmas list already.

*I say "the boys", because BH runs for the hills whenever anything remotely related to this topic comes up.