Ruthie comes downstairs, and I guess she woke up late this morning because she didn't have enough time to iron out her curls. They look nice, by the way. She wants to talk to RevCam about a "really nice" guy she met in detention. But, she says, "everyone thinks he's a bad guy just because he goes to detention." Wait, is this high school we're talking about? Where getting detention actually makes you kind of cool? Ruthie says everyone thinks that she's a "bad girl" too, because of her detention and because of her many brothers and sisters. Yeah, I'll bet people are still talking about that Mary Camden and the time she assaulted the gym with toilet paper, leaving it unusable for whole minutes. RevCam asks Ruthie what she's trying to tell him. "I think I'm ready to date," she says. RevCam "humorously" almost drops his coffee cup. Too bad there was nothing in the coffee cup; I would have loved to see some boiling hot liquid come in contact with his crotch. And why is he so horrified? Wasn't Ruthie dating Peter all of last season? Didn't he go on vacation with them, and sleep over their house? Perhaps it was all a dream. RevCam offers Ruthie a brown-bag lunch, but she rejects it, saying she'll be buying lunch with her new detention buddy, Harry. Ruthie goes outside to wait for Martin.

Martin comes downstairs with the twins. He looks way too proud of himself as he explains that he got the twins dressed today. Well, thank god someone did, otherwise they'd be going to school wearing seven pairs of underwear and cheese. Because Martin likes baseball, he has put the twins in matching baseball-y outfits. Vid says they want to be baseball players when they grow up. "Or pweachewewewes," says Sam. Yeah, uh, Sam? It turns out that to be a "preacher," you need to learn how to talk. Work on that. Off-camera. RevCam says they can be anything they want. Like a Famous People Player. SamVid say that in that case, they want to be baseball players, not preachers. Burn on you, Rev. As well as rejecting his occupation, the twins reject his offer of brown bag lunches, saying that Annie gave them money to buy today. What? Doesn't kindergarten run in half-days, meaning that, while the snacks are plentiful, there is no lunch? When I was in kindergarten, the one and only time we got to buy lunch was on Olympic Day, when they served pizza. Which was delicious, especially since it was covered with the greatest topping of all: victory. That's right: Team Red won the gold medal that year. We kicked ass in the tire obstacle course and we took no prisoners in the Medicine Ball Toss.