"Teacher! There will be a miracle!" Judy announced matter-of-factly.
"A miracle? What kind of miracle?" I asked, always surprised with the words the kids pick up and retain (read: arse, quadrillion).
Before she had a chance to elucidate, Paul burst out:
"A dung miracle!"
"A dung miracle?"
"Oh yes. Many dungs will fall from the sky." He said it with a tone that suggested I really ought to know this by now. Had I been hiding under a rock for the last 23 years?
I would have taken this opportunity to correct his use of plural to "much dung will fall from the sky" but that would only skew his image of dung existing only as individual and perfectly formed piles (with a soft-serve swirl), and probably cause a total meltdown of reality. I dare not be the one to ruin his romantic dream...
"Choco miracle!" Dave was quick to jump on the bandwagon, and steer it in a more palatable direction.
Didn't Tom Waits do a song called Chocolate Jesus? Maybe he had the same thought...
Judy never did end up explaining her miracle.
I'd better keep an umbrella handy.
A Canadian writer teaches English and finds out what it's like to be a foreigner.