So this post started off because (again) I was reading Katie's blog, particularly this post right here.
In which she refers to Dooce, particularly this post right here.
And as I read the second one, having read the first one already, I was moved to ask myself the question:
Does EVERY SINGLE FREAKIN' DAD in the WORLD try something like that at least ONCE??? (Okay, yeah, I know the one in Katie's story was a stray Mormon, not a father. But you just KNOW he became someone's father SOMEDAY--so the hypothesis holds.)
With my dad, it went a little somethin' like this:
My mom is a (now recovering) alcoholic. And around the time I was 5 or so, she decided she was going to quit drinking. So she switched from her martinis to various other non-alcoholic concoctions--sparkling cider, for one; and the year I was 9, it was a combination of quinine water and grape juice. (We referred to it as "squid" because of the way the grape-juice spread at the bottom of the glass, like ink.)
Anyway, the nightly routine was pretty carved-in-stone; Dad would come home from work around 6:30, and Mom would be working on dinner, so Dad would fix drinks--his Manhattan, her quinine-and-grape, and a big glass of 7-up for me.
One night, Dad got distracted in the middle of his bartending duties--phone call or something. So when I walked into the kitchen, Dad was standing there in his little corner space where he always perched, telling Mom about the phone call--and sitting on the counter was Dad's Manhattan, and a tall, iced frosty glass of 7-up....which I, being 9 years old and very thirsty, grabbed immediately. I took a big gulp...
...and my face imploded.
Of course, it was Mom's quinine water I'd chugged. (For those of you not familiar with quinine water, imagine the taste of eleven aspirin dissolved in a glass, with a hint of vinegar added. How this particular beverage ever came into the realm of human consumption, I cannot explain. But it did, to my eternal chagrin.)
I glared at my dad, full of an indignation peculiar to the nine-year-old with a face-full of quinine. "Why didn't you TELL me?" I spluttered.
"Because I wanted to see the look on your face!" he said.
Can't argue with that, I guess. But add another item to the "Things I'd Never Do To MY Kids, If I Had Any" list....
Hey! I've got another story about my brother just like that! We were visiting my (since passed away) grandfather, who loved him some seagram's & 7 up. My brother (this was a couple of years after the olive incident - I think he was 5 or 6?)wanted a glass of 7 up. Grandpa, of course, accidentally switched the two... thi also made my brother cry, though not as passionately as the olive/hotsauce/stray mormon missionary thing. It's great to be the oldest and watch people torture your siblings in lieu of torturing you.
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