During English class, I told Noah that I would give him a big hug if he could spell "reminiscence" correctly. He wrote, "remenicence" and I gave him a big hug. He seemed pleased. I said, "That's not quite right, but I just wanted a big hug." Then I taught him how to spell it. Later in the lesson, he wrote it correctly and I hugged him again. He said, "I don't deserve that. I just copied it from the book." His next vocabulary word was "immaculate". I asked him if he knew what it meant and if he could use it in a sentence. He said, "It means very clean, as in 'Noah is immaculate.'" He said this while farting, so I told him he's the opposite of immaculate and that his next word would be "flatulence". In other gross news, Noah returned from the bathroom and gave this speech to Sarah, who often forgets to flush: "We are not making soup in there, Sarah. We don't need to marinate and simmer all day. Just flush it right down."
During lunch, I dropped my fork with my right hand and caught it in midair like a ninja with my left hand. I yelled, "Wow! Nice catch!" to myself. Sarah shook her head and said, "I pity you sometimes."