Is This Considered Playing with My Food?

I write this as I am emerging from a food coma, so forgive me if I am not completely coherent.

My mom's birthday was yesterday, so today she and I celebrated at Red Lobster with my grandparents - the wealthy and civilized grandparents  (yes, they did arrive in the now infamous "Tinker-Bell").

Eating out with these people, as they heatedly "discuss" politics, has never been my favorite thing to do.  Yet, eating at Red Lobster provides me with a rather strange ... pastime.  I devour crab legs.  I don't quite know what it is about this that amuses me so.  Perhaps it is because I make the whole thing into a wild game, as I savagely rip the crab's remains to shreds with my bare hands...at a comparatively fancy restaurant.  To my relatives, it is almost "dinner and a show", a slightly barbaric show, but a show nonetheless.

My mom ordered the same dinner, but didn't have quite the same luck.  By the time I was done, she had barely finished a fourth of it.
Her Theory (and I quote): The more "elegantly" you eat these, the less efficient you are.

I am not entirely sure what she was insinuating by this (perhaps that I eat crab legs like a caveman on a deserted island).  I ranted once about how my mother feels the need to constantly compensate for her daughter's and husband's weirdness ... in this case, my crab-leg-eating style.  I personally do not see anything wrong with it.  As Kyouya from Ouran High School Host Club would rationalize (pardon the reference), such food is meant to be eaten that way.
My Theory:  The more fun you have with this, the more rewarding the experience.  Not only do I get to eat food, but I get to work for it along the way, leaving an odd sense of accomplishment.

Yeah, I pretty much just turn the whole thing into a game.  I suppose this could give the impression that I have the mentality of a three-year-old.  Now that I think about it, it is more or less a "grown-up" variant of playing with my food.... Oh my, everything seems to be coming together and I feel a little moronic...

Anyway, my mom clearly saw this in a different light.  To her, this was "manual labor" - and on her birthday too!
Later on, the conversation inevitably shifted to what I should major in.  I was too busy musing over the wonderful crab meat and muttered that tearing apart crabs is regrettably one of my only skills.  Of course, I was not being totally serious when I said this.  Yet, the next thing I know, my grandfather feels that it is necessary to bring this mater to our waitress - the poor woman.  Just as they brag about my A's in school and my idea for naming their car "Tinker-Bell" amongst their friends, they brag about my crab-cracking talent to innocent waitresses.  I felt like beating my head on the table then and there.  Although, I am not gonna lie, I do have mad skills when I comes to mutilating the limbs of the dead creature.

Clearly wondering why she was being paid for this, she went on about how I could become a waitress.  Adding that I would have to be at least 19 to apply, as she looked at my face and tried to judge my age.  Then my grandfather added that it would be at least a year until then.  (Even my own grandfather can't remember that I will be 19 in about 3 months.  The agony!)

So, I guess at the end of the day, I at least get to write of one of the things in life that I abundantly enjoy - eating.