My Daughter’s Beer Fear

beerI am in all sorts of trouble because, apparently, it is my fault that my eleven year old daughter was caught swigging beer last night at our family get together.

Not that I encouraged her to drink it. I certainly didn’t pour a pot for her.

I simply left my beer on the kitchen bench while I attended various fatherly duties.

And it’s not even my wife who’s shitty at me: it’s my daughter.

“Ahhh!!” yelled Miss11, “I’m going to die!”

She’d accidentally taken a sip from my cup instead of hers.

“You’re not going to die,” I reassured her as she lent over the kitchen sink rinsing her mouth out and spitting a lot.

“Yes, I am,” she assured me.

“No, you’re not,” I said. “Why do you think you’re going to die? I drink beer and I’m still here. Grandad swills it, and he’s nearly eighty.”

“I’m just a child!” she moaned. “We were told at school that alcohol is really, really bad for kids our age. I could die!”

Enter the internal struggle. Part of me really wanted to assure her she’d live, but part of me was applauding this skewing of the facts. I mean, it was obviously working. She really didn’t want anything to do with alcohol. Bonus.

“Jeez, well I hope you’ve got it all out of your mouth,” I said.

Enter Tracey.

“I used to drink the froth off my Poppy’s beer all the time,” she told her, “and I’m fine.”

“Mostly,” I added.

“I’m fine,” Tracey insisted, giving me a death stare before turning her attention back to Miss11. “And you are too.”

“I don’t know why you’re angry at me,” I told my wife. “Your daughter was the one stealing drinks.”

“I didn’t mean to,” said Miss11.

“I know you didn’t,” Tracey assured her.

Which is all well and good, but the real question here is how Miss11 mistook her cup for mine. I mean, as you can see from the pic below, they were both so similar, yeah?

“You’re not going to have to worry about me when I’m older,” Miss11 told us. “I hate beer. It’s awful.”

“That’s good, sweetie,” I said.

And then she said something which makes me wonder how many of my drinks she’s accidentally been sampling.

“Or coffee. Or scotch. Or wine. They’re all horrible. I don’t know why you like them.”

I’m more interested in how she knows she doesn’t!

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Her cup of water. My glass of beer. Doppelgangers.

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“Raising a family on little more than laughs”


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