At dinner the other day, the topic of drama came up, specifically who is overly dramatic and who is not.

“Well,” I said. “Of all of us, I think you’ve got to admit that I’m the least dramatic.”

My wife rolled her eyes. “Whatever.”

My oldest son nodded. “No. I think he’s right.”

My youngest son started laughing uncontrollably.

I raised my eyebrows at him, in the least dramatic way possible. “What?”

He clutched his right hand to his heart, then extended his left at an angle to the heavens. His face contorted into the most wounded expression possible. “Oh, oh!”

I sighed. “Really?”

He doubled over, laughing.

“Humph.” Keeping my dignity intact, I returned to my eating.

For the record, that’s not drama. That’s my Redd Fox imitation.

There’s a difference.

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