AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHhhh!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Can you hear it?  The sound of parents everywhere in cold climes screaming in agony.  The agony put upon them by their darling dears who turn into a pack of wild screaming mimis when the mercury dips below a certain point and there is no chance of booting them outside.

It’s all in my head, right?  I’m looking at the calendar and thinking enough time has elapsed for the end of winter to be here.  It’s a whole time warp thing.  I’m not literally trapped in the house.  They’re not any more annoying than usual.  But like Guns n’ Roses screeching toward Noriega at the sound of speed, I am cracking under the pressure.  The sonic wave is too much to bear.

The fact that it’s all in my head really is the point, too.  But not in an imaginary sort of way.  Cabin fever most definitely is a psychological phenomenon.  I am going out of my head.  I have reminded, cajoled, spoken sternly, screamed, and threatened to throttle.  I have asked my husband if all the rules I’ve taught them oozed out of their ears.  “Do I have to retrain them?” actually passed my lips.  I gesticulated wildly that the area surrounding the back of the couch/occasional table/armchair is not a “trick zone”.  I started singing the Coke commercial song, as in “I’d like to teach the world to sing in perfect harmony”, perhaps deliriously hoping for just such a scenario in my house.

I may just have to buy a case of something with a bit more punch than Coke and sip and bear it – until hibernation is over.