At my parents’ dinner table one night, my brother updates us on his health:

John: “They don’t think it’s rheumatory arthritis anymore.”
Mom: “What do they think it is?”
John: “Possibly psoriatic.”
Mom: “What kind?”
John: “Psoriatic.”
Mom: “No, what came before that?”
Me: “He said possibly psoriatic, Mom.”
Mom: “Oh…I thought he said something about a ‘possum.”
Dad: “Me, too.” <adjusts hearing aid>
Mom: “I’m sorry, honey. So, you were saying that now they think it’s psoriatic…”
John: <brilliant deadpan> “Possumly.”