9th grader: I ran into my teacher's husband on the Downtown Mall. He's a TV reporter.
Me: What's his name?
9th grader: Mark... Twain?
Me: His name is Mark Twain?
9th grader: No... that's not right.
Later, while we tossed a football...
9th grader: (looking at his left foot) Man, I hate left-footed shoes.
Me: You hate left-footed shoes?
9th grader: Flat-footed. I meant to say flat-footed.
