Back to work in old Bethlehem

I've been trying to put my nose to the grindstone since being back from California. The universe has not exactly been cooperating. Quinn got as sick as I've ever seen him last week, and I wound up missing two days of work. UGH. I used up all my paid time off for the vacation. Just tempting fate, I know.

Today Mia had an appointment across the street from my building at 9:45 with an otalaryngologist (one of my very favorite English words. Say it three times fast. It will make you smile if you are as twisted as me). Darin took her, and after the appointment they came to meet me. By the way, her ears are fine. Fluid, but nothing to worry about.

As a trio we walked over the skywalk into the hospital to buy Mia one of the 60 cent frozen yogurts at the "Atrium Cafe." Hand in hand we passed Same Day Surgery, Radiology, then turned the corner towards the Labor and Delivery Unit-- the last section before hitting the Cafe. So I point out to Mia, "here is where Quinnie was born." "Why?" she asks. I answer, "Because this is the part of the hospital everyone comes to have their baby born." As loud as she can, in astonished voice: "BABY JESUS WAS BORN HERE?"

Sidelong glaces from nurses, passing members of public, geriatric visitors to same day surgery, no smiles. Not amused by heathen child. Brace yourselves, Bible belters. I unleash upon you my Godless brood.

We heap on the ignorance, upon the ignorance.

"No hon, baby Jesus was born far away and a long time ago."

"Well, my baby Jesus is in my tummy. She will come out when she is big enough."

What the heck to say? "Sweetie, if your baby is a girl, you should name her something else. Jesus is a boy's name." Long ago I gave up trying to argue with her about her pregnancy.

"NO! My baby Jesus is a girl."

"Okay, that's fine. Want some ice cream?"