Post-birthday stress disorder

Yup. I don't know what is wrong with me today, but I am totally in a funk.

Could it be that I am suffering from the aftermath of having dinner with my children again?

Could it be that I'm worn out from holiday cheer?

Could it be that I am just freakin' old?

Hmmph. I dunno. I just know that my butt is draggin' on the ground today.

And dinner? My children?

Oh.

My.

Gawd.

There are times I am afraid to write about them because I really am concerned that Child Protective Services will come a-knockin' and take my Roo-girl away from this ... ahem ... strange crew and their clearly out-of-her-mind mother.

But I just can't stay away from a story that involves roasted ears of corn, butter and nasty boys.

Birthday dinner was at a local barbecue place that I am particularly fond of. In fact, leftovers are awaiting this very minute! Mmmmmmmm.

The Drama King had a full ear of corn. He took a foil-wrapped pat of butter, opened the foil ... and proceeded to rhythmically rub it on the cob.

His older brother promptly fell on the floor. Then that same older brother carefully pulled back the remaining husk on his ear of corn and began to systematically gnaw on it.

"Oh, really," the Drama King snorted. "Don't you think you should buy it dinner first?"

I don't think I can ever ever ever look at an ear of corn again.

Nor can I go back to that restaurant after spewing barbecue sauce out of my nose.