I don't try to eavesdrop on my children but I can't always help it. I'd have to lose all my hearing to give them the privacy that they want. They are, simply put, loud. Just last week I was in the kitchen and heard the following exchange from the boys who were in the dining room:
Ty: "Hey Liam! What's the difference between gravity and anti-gravity?"
Liam: "I don't know. I'm not Einstein. Aidan's not Einstein. Nobody's Einstein except for Einstein and he's dead so I'm pretty sure he doesn't know anymore either."
At this point there was silence for a couple seconds and then Liam added, "Go ask Mom." This either means that Liam wanted me to verify that Einstein was indeed passed beyond the veil or that he wanted Ty to ask me for the theory on gravity vs. anti-gravity. Since I am an optimist, I choose to believe that my children have put me on an intellectual level with the great mind that was Einstein. Don't try to talk me out of it.
In addition to having loud everyday speaking voices, my kids also have bionic whispers. The bionic whisper is accomplished when the child who wishes to be subtle adopts a very breathy near-scream. Because, as they've explained to me, "you still want to be heard even if you're whispering."
You could say that my kids' bionic whispering makes me more pious. In church, I hold my breath and pray really hard when my boys tug on my sleeve and motion for me to incline my ear toward them for a whispered missive. I never know what they're going to say. Two Sundays ago, Aidan got the attention of the pastor after the children's message as he was walking back up the aisle. He screech-whispered, "Hey Pastor Dave! My Uncle Greg killed a deer yesterday. I watched him pull the guts out. It was really gross. But it was great when he pulled the intestines out 'cause they made a huge pooting noise."