My childhood, like a multi-car expressway pileup

Scene at a family dinner while all are eating honeydew sago:

M: “How do they get the honeydew so round?”
After the requisite withering stares which are the exclusive province of older siblings, the response is, “They have the melon baller, that little metal scoop, like an ice-cream scoop.”
M: “Ooohhh.”

Pause.

M: “So how do they get the sago so round?”
Withering stares, safeties off.
Dad: “Oh, you see, they have these little metal scoops, and then just scoop it out, and it’s round.”

Pause.

“Uh, Daddy, she’s asking about the sago.”

This is the same dinner conversation where a query about the talk my father attended revealed that there was a new machine which used electrotherapy to treat cases of bursitis.

Dad: “And they have machines, they send these electric waves through your body, very cute!”
All:”Cute?”
Dad: “Yeah yeah, and they blow cold air, because sometimes the treatment makes your skin heat up. Very fun, you know?”
All: “Daddy!”
Dad: “Yeah, I tried it!” (Said with all the glee of a six-year old at a fun-fair while pointing to a roller-coaster)

Again, I worry.