Unbeknownst to us, our daughter seems to have started a new activist group–Daughters Against Mothers Drinking (DAMD).
Her reasons for this are a mystery to us, as my wife does not even remotely have a drinking problem. She does enjoy an alcoholic beverage from time to time, but so do a majority of adults over 21. In fact, since the pregnancy (when she didn’t drink and I did my best not to make her jealous), breastfeeding, and the unending sleep deprivation of having twin babies (which does not AT ALL jive with a hangover), both of us have become lightweights who feel superfine after two.
However, when my wife does decide she would fancy a drink, she is most certainly entitled, as she is our household’s primary breadwinner at an oftentimes intense job that spreads her thinly and leaves her toasted by the end of the day.
It was with this fervor that she asked for a glass of wine while at Nani and Abuelito’s (my wife’s mother and stepfather’s) house for dinner last night, and I was happy to oblige, pouring her the finest chardonnay Nani’s entire counter had to offer.
In anticipation of the Twins coming over and crawling all over it, their Abuelito had steam-cleaned the carpet that morning. We’d all noticed its rejuvenated, fluffy sheen, and it was there that my wife sat amongst the Twins and floor-strewn Legos when I delivered her beverage. Unsurprisingly, our daughter eyed the glass with a critical furrowed brow.
I’m not sure if her disapproval stems from us not letting her drink any like we do when we’re drinking water, or that holding the glass prohibits us from providing her full, two-handed attention. Maybe both. Maybe neither. Who knows?
Whatever the cause, as my wife gingerly took her first few sips, our daughter made several spirited attempts at the glass. Having learned from previous beverage bitch-slaps resulting in full-body stains, my wife expertly dodged each.
But several minutes later, the wine fell victim to the whine. Unable to get two technicolor bricks to interlock, my daughter staged a mini-flip-out and crawled into her mother’s lap for comfort, a single red Lego still in her hand. As my wife snuggled her back to solace, my daughter stared down her nemesis.
There it is. The glass.
With Mommy’s guard down and her target closer than ever, she seized the opportunity to deposit her Lego in Mommy’s Special Drink.
“Shouldn’t she get a carnival prize or something?” I mused, retrieving the glass from my wife to fish out the brick and get her a refill. We’d run out of white wine, so I poured a red instead.
As soon as the glass was back, my daughter again voiced her discontent. What would her DAMD group think if they found out she let this madness continue? In protest, she delivered a face-five to Mommy’s cheek via tv remote with a smack so loud, the entire room winced.
“No, Baby Girl. You don’t hit Mommy,” I corrected.
She gave me the stink eye and returned to her toys. Amongst them was a jack-o’-lantern pail we’d gotten the kids for Halloween, which has become a mainstay at Nani’s house, perfect for storing various baby trinkets.
It happened in the blink of an eye. The next thing we knew, a fluorescent orange blur was hurtling through the air towards my wife, culminating in the shattering of glass.
My daughter had taken hold of the pumpkin’s handle, swung it overhead like a big-league pitcher, and taken out Mommy’s wine glass once and for all, sending its scarlet contents all over her shirt and pants.
And then came one of my favorite things about our family. There was only one logical response for this occurrence, which we all shouted enthusiastically in perfect sync: “Opa!”
While my wife hunted down a change of clothes, I inspected the carpet, and sure enough, found a colony of crimson flecks right where my wife had sat.
“Don’t worry,” Abuelito smirked. “It’s not like I just steamed the carpet or anything.”
. . .
Just in case the responsibility of having kids wasn’t enough to dissuade us from alcoholic consumption, our daughter seems to be equipped with anti-booze technology.
I’ll definitely agree that adult beverages should be enjoyed in moderation, especially by parents, but it sure would be nice to not have to unload half a bottle of Shout onto red wine stains so often.
At the same time, as her father, I do have a deep commitment to nurturing my daughter’s interests, so per her request, I’d like to inform you all that she is, in fact, in search of members to join her cause.
If any of your children exhibit similar tendencies, please let us know in the comments section so they, too, can be part of this DAMD thing.
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If not, hold this glass for a minute while I get my daughter.
She’s just training for decades of c0ck blocking. (Forgive my language.)
Oh geez. I don’t even want to think about that. I just hope she won’t wind up like Cinderella at Disney World.
Want in on the joke, O Loyal Reader? Check this out: http://daddyknowsless.blogspot.com/2012/03/castle-confidential.html
Great read, and especially love the “Opa” cheer in unison part. But my favorite part has to be the lego deposited into the wine glass. Almost like a dog marking it’s territory. “Oh you can have your precious wine, but on MY terms!”
Exactly. That’s why they say never to drink while working construction.
Probably better she be a charter member of DAMD than reaching for the glass to drink. Just tell your wife next time use a plastic cup for her wine…and maybe drink it in another room ;)
Agreed. Better to adamantly oppose alcohol than try to get it for herself. The plastic cup’s a brilliant idea, although it doesn’t have quite the same effect: “There’s nothing like a nice plastic cup of wine after a long day at work.”
Another room or another “level.” My sister once exclaimed while visiting, “he is getting up on the coffee table!!” in response to my 1-year-old climbing up on said table, and I told her, “It’s not so much that level I’m worried about,” holding my hand about thigh high, “but rather this level,” holding my hand about chest high. First and foremost, because a fall from that height is legit as opposed to a nice “wake up call fall” from the coffee table, but also because that is the level in which we keep our beverages. ;)
Lebowski would agree.
“Hey, careful, man! There’s a beverage here!”
Next time she is having her bottle… PAYBACK TIME. Btw… You know that wouldn’t have happened if the carpets weren’t steam cleaned.
Oh man, I’m NOT gonna mess with that. She’s intense when she’s drinking. It’s so not worth it.
But yeah, I’m pretty sure this is the cosmos telling me never to steam clean my carpet EVER.
I’m okay with that.
I do believe our twin girls would love to join her group. 15-months-old and they have it in for us. Even with Pepsi or Dr. Pepper! Milk, juice, or water is fine, all othe drinks WILL be disposed of. lol
All right. They’re signed up. My daughter would like I know if they’ve ever held any offices previously. She’s looking to put together an executive council. Yours sound more than qualified, but it’s really just a formality.
She’s quite the little activist. Love the acronym.
My wife drinks once every other year so my daughter thinks beer is for daddies and rum is for pirates. In other words, no DAMD kids in our family but I do have other choice words for them.
Yeah, we’re hoping her enthusiasm loses steam. I put on Disney Sing-Along-Songs not too long ago, with a hypnotic message encoded in the “Circle of Life” sequence telling her to ease up. We’ll see how that pans out.
They did start groups and currently run Daughters Against Mothers and Dads Working and Fit Throwers United. They have yet to come to full conclusion who is president and who is vice-president, though. It’s been put to vote, but it’s always deadlocked.
The Twins have the same problem. Yet they still keep voting. Ah, the perils of bureaucracy.
My son: “Do I like wine?”
Me: “No. Not yet.”
My son: “I will drink wine and beer when I turn 35.”
Me: “Sounds like a plan. Don’t forget to invite me.”
I love how “the pumpkin was the smasher, rather than the smashee.” Great line, and very funny – though somewhat disturbing – story!
Oh, come on. What did you expect? You know I always go for “very funny and somewhat disturbing.”
Thanks so much as always! Hope that new flooring’s working out and withstands Wonderbutt’s namesake.
Best. Reaction. Ever.
And at least you know she could have a future in sports… :)
I’m already there. I’m considering lining up some stemware for target practice. What’s a little shattered glass if it makes her an international superstar?
We are seatbelt people, and will always be adamant about it. However, I am not allowed to pull the “put the belt on just after accelerating move” or I am met with immediate disapproval from the back seat.
We’re kind of the opposite with alcohol… my kids are always interested in “smelling daddy’s beer” and the only person who’s ever broken a wine glass is yours truly.
Hehe, we’re seatbelt people, too. In fact, one of our cars makes sure of it by beeping obnoxiously if the car is moving more than 5 mph and someone isn’t buckled up. Although my kids aren’t old enough to remind me, I’m sure we won’t need this function once they are.
My twin girls have always hated my drinking. We all laugh that their dislike of alcoholic beverage goes back to the womb. I was 7 months pregnant, at a Renaissance Faire and with full hands still wanted to bring my dad the beer I had promised. It was put in a yard long glass and hung around a lanyard which I hung around my neck. I had Almost reached the table and my dad when the twins, in utero began kicking so hard they kicked the yardlong glass and poured all the beer straight down my shirt.
Wow, that’s some powerful kicking! Hilarious!
I giggled until I cried because I can see my twin girls doing the same thing. I’m sure they would join DAMD!
Fantastic. They’re in. We’ll need your DAMD dues first, though. My daughter has requested a fee of five Goldfish crackers for each new member. Would that set you back too much?