Ad Nauseam

Julianna, the fifth-grader (she’s 10), and her class are embarking on Ancient Latin and Greek terminology. photo, therm, et cetera, etc. (You see what I did there…)

Julianna is perplexed by the phrase ad nauseam.

J: Daddy, what is “ad naudsumum…” Do I have to get sick? I have to write a sentence with it.

Me: ad nauseam is, like, when your teacher keeps teaching and teaching and teaching until you feel sick! You don’t actually get sick, but you feel like you might.

J: Oh!

Julianna lights up and begins to write something. But, she is covering up with her left hand so that I can’t see. Obviously, she is writing about me because I talk, talk, talk.

Then, Isabella (she’s 7) looks at me, gets a devilish look, and whispers to Julianna.

Girls: Teeheeheehee.

Isabella: Daddy, Julianna finished her assignment!

(She can barely contain herself.)

Julianna (laughing through it all): “My dad farts on and on and on ad nauseam.”




Me: Ok, Honey. Fart. Ha.

Girls: Hahaha, he said “Fart!” Hahahahaha!

Me: Sweetie, because this is actual homework for your teacher(!), can you please change the word “farts” to something else, like “sings.”

J: But “farts” is funnier.

Me: Yes, I know it is, I know. But, please. For your teacher.

Iz: Because you can’t sing either!! Hahaha!

Me: Thank you.

Iz: Also, you’re fat.

[Editor’s note: To be fair, if I had this homework assignment when I was 10, my 5th grade teacher Mrs. Ramsay would right now be staring down the barrel of an essay on farts. But, I’ve raised a slightly-better class of child. Haven’t I?]

Here’s the evidence. Note the erasure marks around the “sanitized” version…

Please, don't throw up.

Please, don’t throw up.

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