On Mother’s Day, my grown kids told me they had chosen the restaurant and expected me to pay for all twelve of them, just like always.

“You make the most money.”

“I have three kids!”

Kevin said, “I can cover two hundred.”

Madison glared at him. “Two hundred? You ordered the tomahawk steak.”

“It said brunch special!”

“It was eighty-six dollars!”

The argument rose just high enough for nearby tables to begin glancing over. The grandchildren went quiet. Lauren looked humiliated. Eric rubbed continue reading …