On vacation, staying with friends, as I work on responding to some e-mails from students regarding final exams at the dining room table, I hear the following with my right ear, under which the lad and his mother are doing school:
MOTHER: Sit up straight. Now write this: “Vir est factus ab iure.”
LAD: (whining) What does it mean?
MOTHER: Just write it first. It means you are made into a man by following the rules.
LAD: (whine ascending to a higher pitch) I don’t wanna be made into a man.
Thanks, dear reader, should you ever find me, for being the gadfly of my discipline, interrupted as it is by vacation. For now let’s just assume the best thing I read is the Septuagint Psalms, as I try to acquire the interior sense of these poems that the late antique monks had.
UPDATE: a few minutes later I actually read something better:
puer qui matrem vexat sibi nocet. (The boy that annoys his mother harms himself.) Nice.