““Soon we're both frowning hard at the paperwork. "Middle name?" Noah says. "Does Gideon even have a middle name?" "I don't know" Noah turns to me and says, "Do you have a middle name?" his glare implying that, if I do, this whole thing is somehow my fault. "I...have no idea." "Primary language spoken at home." Noah makes a face. "What does this mean? Our primary language? Gideon's? That's sort of why we're here..." "Um, it's under family , so I'm guessing ours?" "Well..." Noah lowers his pen. The paperwork has defeated him. "What's our primary language?" "English? ASL? Physical affection?" "Food?" Noah says. "Food's a good guess." He picks up the pen. "I'm writing food , comma passive aggressive ." "Good call.””
