Matthew's dictating his story to me, as it's the only way he's going to settle and do some GCSE coursework for his exam.
"The boy was terrified of the head teacher, because he had DEATH BREATH! It was worse than eggs, it was worse than gone-off coffee, it was worse than ... Miss, tellim!"
Joe had wandered back upstairs from the library, and appeared to be trying to sit himself down on Matthew's shoulder. Matthew, squealing, falls into Nathan, who kicks off with the mega-fussy fussiness of the temporarily innocent, and Joe, rear-first, slides down them both.
~ Joe, stop it and go get your folder. No, go around the other side.
"He farted! Ugh!" shouts Matthew.
~ Don't be silly. Joe wouldn't do anything so disgusting. What's the next line?
Joe turns up again, points his rear at Matthew, then 'accidentally' falls again, squashing both him and Nathan all over again.
"He is!" Matthew's tan has purpled in embarrassment and fury. I drag Joe off him, and physically move him away from the boys. "He's doing it on purpose!"
"No I never!" pipes up Joe.
~ Exactly, nobody would do that. Matthew, the story! I half pray as I say it.
He walks past Lisa, then falls against her, in reverse, and lifts his blazer flaps as he does so.
~ Joe! Stop being stupid! No, Matthew, he's NOT farting.
"Ahhhh. That was a wet one."

It's good to know I'm losing all these brain cells and pumping my stress valves for such a noble cause.