When I picked Henry up from the bus today, he seemed almost chipper.

"Wow, Henry, you seem like you had a good day today," I say, hopefully, because we haven't had one yet.

"Yeah, today was a good day. I got bit by a kid and I still have a mark, and it's still burning!" Not a note of sarcasm in his voice, so I'm perplexed.

"How does that make it a good day?"

"Well, it's something different, isn't it?"

First Grade, you are killing me.