Yesterday during church I was reminded of an incident that happened during sacrament while I was growing up.
My mom has always insisted that we sit in the first or second row. The rest of us hated this because we were usually late and it felt like the walk of shame up to the front to sit in our front-row spot. But it was a hygienic thing. Mom didn't want to take the sacrament after it'd passed by everyone else and been touched, breathed on, coughed on, what have you.
One Sunday, we finally convinced her to give sitting farther back a try. We sat about half way in the middle section. When the water tray came, there were five cups left. One of them had a cheerio floating it. We all quickly calculated who the fifth person was - Josh - and tried not to laugh when the tray got to him and he realized he was stuck and hurriedly gulped it down.
Needless to say, mom won that argument and we've been in the front ever since.