And he said, wait, what did he say?

E's brain functions at a level which sometimes confuses me, sometimes surprises me, and sometimes just plain baffles me.  Tonight, we shared a quiet time together that we normally do not get to enjoy.  The following conversation occurred:

E: Mom, if someone were to want to put a bullet into Ben, would you lay yourself over him?

Totally shocked at this out of the blue question...

Me: Um, I would do whatever I needed to do to make sure my children were not hurt.
E: So, you'd take credit and lay over him for the bullet?
Me: Credit......um, I would try very hard to protect him and each of you.  So I would rather die than you guys have to die.
E: Nodding, yeah...that makes sense.  'Cause Ben is a baby and if he died, he would never know what school was like or eating real food.
Me: (trying to regain some composure) So...where did this come from?
E: No where.  Just curious.
Me: No, curious is 'Mom, what was your favorite subject in school.' not 'Mom, would you take a bullet for your kids.'
E: (smirking) Yeah, did you know that there are some people that think it's more important for other people to live?
Me: (blank stare) What are you talking about?
E: Did you know...(speaking slowly so the apparent imbecile can understand) that there are people that think it's more important for mayors to live?
Me: Mayors?
E: Yes...(slowly again) mayors.  You know what mayors are, right?  So them or people like Barack Obama...you know him, right? (again, double checking for the imbecile)  It's more important for Barack to live than for them to live?
Me: (trying to get over the fact that my son is on a first name basis with the President) Do you mean the Secret Service?
E: YES! They said they would lay over people like Barack if someone else were trying to give them a bullet.
Me: Yes, hon, because that's their JOB.  It's their job to protect people like the President, the First Lady, his kids...make sense?
E: Yeah.

At this point, I'm trying to recover from the conversation when he pulls this doozy:

E: Ya know, I would totally take the credit if someone tried to give Quinn a fast bullet.
Me: Um, no no.  Not the 'credit'.  You would 'take the bullet'.  You never 'take the credit' for giving someone a fast bullet, ok?
E: Oh, ok.
Me: Better yet, how about you never try to give anyone a fast bullet, ok?
E: That's just silly mom, I want to KEEP people from getting bullets.


Being a parent is soooooo awesome.

Is Santa Real?

Tis the Season, right?  Wrong.  While a lot of parents get ready for the Christmas season with zeal and utter delight (ha), I always have a small amount of dread that rides the yuletide wave into town.  See, for me, the dread is not about the shopping (I have amazon.com for that), the decorating (a fake tree and plenty of ornaments), the family visits (family doesn't visit enough, so any family visit is a good family visit), or the cooking (I LOVE cooking).  This mother's dread comes from my 7 year old who has long since known that Santa is not real...at least not the Santa in the mall that brings you toys on Christmas morning.

I brought it on myself, I know.  I don't like lying to my kids, even if it's to make a childhood belief last longer.  So when my nephew told my young son that Santa wasn't real and he came up to me for validation, or maybe hoping I would squelch the lies coming forth from my nephew's blasphemous mouth....I did what any parent might do...I said, "Well, what do YOU think?"  To which my little man replied, "I don't know...I don't think so."  We let that sit a bit and a few days later he asked again, this time...it seems...hoping I would validate HIS feelings that it wasn't real and only kids believed it.  Oy.

I told him the story of Saint Nicholas and how he was a real man, etc, etc...but yes, the Santa in the mall is just a man dressed up...and his JOB is to try to keep the magic alive for little boys and girls.  We talked about how Christmas is really about Jesus' birthday (which sparked our tradition of baking Jesus a birthday cake at Christmas....'cause, well, it's his birthday, DUH!).

So my dread comes when any other little child shows innocent exuberance at the sight, nay, mention of his glorious name....Santa.  All of the magic and wonder and excitement can be smashed in a single, tear-inducing statement..."You know, he's not real."  Images of little boys and girls in tears and utter dismay at hearing those words would fall on my shoulders as the 'mother of the little boy that ruined Christmas for my family'.  Any time we're walking by and a 'Santa' is out passing out free smiles and warm handshakes...I must quietly and quickly remind the eldest-belief-smasher that we do NOT tell anyone that Santa is not real.  We let them have their magic for as long as they can hold onto it.  He silently nods as we continue to walk, but he is eyeballing the kids, with their glossed-over eyes and crack-your-face smiles...and I know what he's thinking.

But bless his heart....he stays silent and manages to keep the secret alive.