First, my ultra-hip younger brother made a guest appearance in my classroom yesterday, much to the delight of the sophs. He read and discussed a sonnet he’d written (which was decidedly better than the crap I’d composed as a model this fall) and expounded on the purpose of poetry.

“I really believe it’s important to get in touch with the emotional side of the human experience,” he told the kids earnestly. “Poetry helps us do that.”

They nodded solemnly. I mean there was none of the usual eye-rolling that follows my impassioned defenses of literature.

Second, Shef’s on a mega-dose of antibiotics for the cough that hasn't really quit since December. Dr. G. decided this time it’s a sinus infection and the cough is the result of a post-nasal drip. She said ears look “dull and kind of thick,” which I guess isn’t too good; but she decided to hold off on x-raying the adenoids until we see if the twenty-day course nips this crud in the bud.

On the way to the doctor’s office Shef, ever cheerful in the face of chronic illness, said:

“I like to go to the zoo. I like the tapirs. I like the guy feeding the fish, too. I like muffins. I like bananas. I like pancakes. I like yogurt. I like to play toys.”

As if that weren’t funny enough, his Aunt Mary taught him a joke yesterday. If you ask him, “What’s a pirate’s favorite letter?” He’ll wrinkle up his nose and snarl, “Arrrgh!” We did the joke for Dr. G., but she didn’t think it was too, too hilarious.