Amy Bentley: Says this debate will help us understand the debates that led up to the civil war. And Mr. Peck, the science teacher, says it'll be a good assessment of all the work we've been doing about animals.

And the thing is I already know which animal is best, the octopus. When Bryce was a tantruming toddler and Aurora was a baby, we moved four times over the course of that year, but the one constant was this little TV /DVD combo that we totted around with us and an old DVD from the library free shelf. The mysterious and fascinating world of the octopus.

That DVD would send Bryce into an instant trance. And we watched it so often that I happily memorized every word of it. Then last year, when I couldn't go on the sixth grade field trip to the aquarium in Boston, my mom kept forgetting to send in the payment. Ms. Giddings, the guidance counselor, brought me back a book on octopuses.

And actually octopuses is correct. You don't have to say octopi, if you don't want to. The book told me so. I find a pencil nub at the bottom of my backpack and start filling in the blanks with awesome things. Like their ability to instantly camouflage themselves, which they're amazing at because they have these things called chromatophores. That word was in my book.

So the color of their skin can change to match what's around them. They even have muscles that can change their skin's texture. Of course, it means that when they get mad or nervous, they turn red and pimply, but nothing's perfect, right? Ms. Roshambo will be as surprised as anyone else when I stand up for the debate and use a word like chromatophore.

I settled deeper into the couch. If this were a regular Sunday or really any day, Frank would be here watching TV, usually angry news guys. Frank is Lenny's dad. And Lenny is the owner of this trailer. Lenny is also my mom's boyfriend, and that's why we get to live here with his nice curtains and end tables that are perfectly aligned with his couch.

Lenny even has an alphabetized DVD collection. He also has a recliner that Frank sits in, like he's glued to it. But today Frank went out for a walk to check on the tree damage from a recent ice storm. And since Lenny and my mom are both at work, Hector and I get the main room of the trailer to ourselves.

So, even though Ms Roshambo announced that we needed our completed packet to be part of the debate, this time I can actually do it. This time I don't have to be counted out. I'm three pages in to the four page packet when Hector starts throwing the Cheerios all over Lenny's nice carpet. I get down on the floor so I can pick them up.

"Those are for eating, not for throwing," I tell him, but he keeps throwing them anyway. I remove his ammunition. So, naturally he starts screaming. Then, since Hector's scream seems to work like the bat signal, Bryce and Aurora burst out of our bedroom door, trampling all the Cheerios in their path. Bryce is yelling about his imaginary bucket of doom. Aurora climbs into my lap and covers her ears.

If I were an octopus, things would be so much easier. I'd have one arm to wipe Aurora's nose. Two more for holding both kids' hands when I pick them up from the headstart bus stop to keep Bryce from wandering into the street after some rock he's spotted. One to hold Hector and his diaper bag on the afternoons when my mom works at the pizza pit.

One to adjust my shirt because it doesn't really fit and it can get too revealing if I'm not paying attention. And I don't want to be that girl. One, so I could do my homework at least some of the time if I wanted. One to pick up the Cheerios that are always on the floor and the last one to swipe a can of Easy Cheese from the Cumberland Farms, convenience store, because little snowmen out of Easy Cheese are the most...