Curiosity killed... the conversation

We took a field trip to the Mayborn Museum this week.

 Our Family Pass to the museum is our all-time favorite, and most-used gift.

The kids were playing nicely

 with some new friends, then it happened.

 Again.

 A total stranger saw my family,

 put on her dunce cap,

 and approached us.

 With a determined look,

 she began her mission.

I smiled and said hello.

"Your boys are adorable. Are they from China?" she asked. "We have some friends with a daughter from China."

"Oh, thank you." I replied. "No, they were born in Korea."

She looked more closely at the boys. "Are they twins?"

"No. How old is your son?" I asked, hoping against all hope that I could steer this conversation away from where I thought it was headed. She didn't take the bait, ignored my question about her child, and I could see the wheels turning in her head. People are so predictable.

Here is where I wanted to use my super-powers to freeze time and remove the dunce cap from the woman's head so she would have sense enough to taste her words before speaking them. I hoped she and I might continue our conversation and talk about one of my favorite topics in the world~ adoption. I wished we could chat and I could share information and tell her about the blessings our family has experienced through adoption. Or we could talk about the beauty of Korea, or how wonderful big sisters are. Or gardening. Or the newest museum exhibit. Or the weather. Or shoelaces. I'm up for just about anything.

But instead I get a familiar knot in my stomach while she studies my sons. Unfortunately, I know exactly what's coming.

"Well, are they real brothers?" she asks,

 and my sons turn and look at me. 

"Yes," I answer with a practiced smile.

 Then I move away from her, toward my children.

 This conversation is over for me.

When my sons were toddlers they didn't pay much attention when people asked if they are "real brothers", but they certainly pay attention now.  And do you know why I split as soon as I've decisively answered the "real brothers" question? Because that is just the beginning. I've seen where this conversation goes if I stick around for more.

"They aren't twins?" they inevitably ask.

"No."

"Well, how far apart in age are they?" they ask.

"Two months," I answer,

 silently willing the curious person to shut up

 before they blurt out what comes next.

 It rarely works.

"Oh, so they are NOT real brothers, then." 

The stranger is now satisfied.

 They've confirmed for themselves

 and everyone within earshot

 that my children don't share DNA.

 They always seem so pleased

 to have us all figured out.

I just smile,

 look over my shoulder

 and leave them with a parting shot.

"They are now."

I pray I will never be so insensitive to a child, about anything. I pray I will never ask things that are none of my business. I pray I won't ever be so desperately and stubbornly curious, that I won't pause to give my brain one-half of a second to analyze exactly how my questions or comments might sound to someone else.

And I pray I will be a good example to my children when people around us continue to speak while their brains, and hearts, are disconnected from their mouths.