This week, I became royalty. My coronation was held in an office where my dentist presented me with a permanent crown. As ceremonies go, this one left a little to be desired. There was a lot less pomp and circumstance than you would expect. I think a cardinal might have attended, but those could have been pigeons outside the office window. I was a little distracted.

One of my biggest concerns, frankly, was the impact my sudden ascension would have on those around me. I figured it might take a little while for my family to get used to referring to me as “Your Highness” or the occasional “M’Lord”. I’d also need my recliner modified to add a place to store my scepter. I wasn’t overly concerned about dealing with the paparazzi because I’ve gotten pretty good at ignoring people. Speaking of the people, I would need to work on my royal wave so it wouldn’t appear pretentious. Commoners hate that. On the positive side, I was excited about the idea of adding a dungeon and a moat to my house. That should cut down on peasants selling cookies, lawncare and magazines door to door.

I made a mental note to address the delivery driver / drawbridge issue. Having packages (or drivers) eaten by the moat monster would be unfortunate. For that matter, I would need a new moat monster. Can you order one of those online? Sure, I could make do with some water moccasins and piranha, but they lack a certain panache.

I was so focused on my plans for the moat that I may have zoned out for the last bit of the coronation. The dentist and his acolytes stared at me, awaiting my response to whatever had just been said. I graced them with a wave and glided towards the exit. The staff at the front desk failed to bow as I approached. In fact, they were barely looked up from their monitors. We have to forgive the manners of the masses. We hope to be a benevolent ruler, after all. Oh, yes. That reminds us. We are loving the use of the Royal We. Time will tell if our family will as well.