Shall we call him... Franklin?

So let's just be hypothetical for a moment. Let's say you have a friend who works with children. And let's say that the children she works with are somewhere around the age of 5. And in that place where she works with children they serve disgusting cheap food from a mass-produced school lunch style cafeteria, in little styrofoam dinner trays sealed with cellophane across the top. Besides the fact that the food is disgraceful considering the amount of money parents are shelling out for their spoiled children's private care, there is usually a pretty small portion of food there. So let's say that said employer supplements with canned fruit to fill the empty 1/3 section of the dinner tray.

There is always one child in every room that is a Class A Space Cadet. Not only does it take them 25 minutes longer than any other child to accomplish anything, they also manage to turn the simplest tasks into adventures in difficulty and frustration. That sentence is pure fact. There is nothing hypothetical about the existance of space cadet children. Where most children will throw a used paper towel into the garbage can that is situated immediately next to the paper towel dispenser, "Franklin*" (the name is both hypothetical and has been changed) will gaze distractedly into space for 8 minutes or until called by the teacher to simply throw said used towel away. Upon arrousal from his distracted state, Franklin will then walk away from the garbage can placed strategically next to him, around the entire classroom, passing no fewer than 4 garbage cans that have not moved location in the 10 months that hhe has been assigned to this classroom still holding a slightly moist and crumpled towel, eventually returning back to the original garbage can and deposit the paper towel on the rim of said can, where it will promptly fal to the floor and remain forgotten.

Now, hypothetically speaking of course, you should know that today, after Franklin took an extra 23 minutes to put his shoes on and put his boots away after recess, he (hypothetically) joined us at the lunch table, where most of his friends were already finishing their slimy ravioli and yellowed peas. One of his hypothetical and thoughtful friends passed him the aforementioned supplemental canned peaches. And Franklin, in all of his hypothetical awareness of life the universe and everything, proceeded to serve himself a large spoonful of peaches...

without taking the cellophane off the tray.

Teacher turns around just in time to see Franklin desperately trying to trap an entire serving of slimy peaches in his tiny hands while simultaneously attempting to open the cellophane and hide his gaffe from his teacher and his friends. The peaches keep slipping out of his hands and in between his fingers and sliding aroung the table and he couldn't get a grip on the cellophane and the tray was getting more and more covered in peach juice and...

...well, hypothetically speaking, wouldn't that just be the funniest thing you saw that day?