The price of string-cheese

I thought it was the children. I, on any ordinary day, am loving and kind and patient and adorable. Today, however, I was a howling banshee, mentally imagining slapping electric shock collars around the necks of certain individuals when they repetitively refused to respond to my reasonable requests. Suffice to say...I was having a bad day. And then it happened.

We were on our way out to the buses (more or less in a straight line...more or less not shouting at the top of our lungs) when I reached into my coat pocket--I may have been searching for a light narcotic-and discovered the string cheese that I'd placed there from this morning. Forget Powerball! I had just won the cheese lottery! I held it up victoriously...think Lady Liberty with her torch-style and showed everyone, smiling in utter (well, given the dairy content of my discovery...let's make that "udder") delight. Meanwhile, unbeknownst to me, a twenty dollar bill from my pocket had floated gently to the sidewalk. "Mrs. Mosiman, Mrs. Mosiman!" a small voice called out, retrieving and returning my lost loot. "Why, thank you," I said, hugging the honest cherub before showing her my treasure, "Look! Cheese!"

There is a bible verse (hard to believe that I'm quoting scripture in the same blog were I unceremoniously administer corporal punishment for classroom misdemeanors..."I said FREEZE, Robert! I just saw you move!") in Matthew that says: For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also. My little parable demonstrates that my money (or treasure) is where my mouth is...I could have cared less about that twenty dollar bill. Oh my goodness! I've just gone Old Testament! I'm Esau! I would trade my birthright for string-cheese!

In hindsight...I'm wondering if I was suffering for that newly-coined condition of when you mistake hunger from anger:  Instead of the children being naughty...was I just hangry?