When I was little I wanted to do whatever my parents did. I wanted to drink what my parents were drinking and eat what my parents were eating. Mom was slurping down escargot? I was too. Dad was drinking a beer? I wanted a sip until, "YUCK!" I changed my mind.
So I figured when Archer went straight for my coffee the other day, I would give him a sip, turning him off of the stuff for good, or at least, for a few years. He took a sip of my iced soy latte, recoiled from the taste and then smiled, his big eyes blinking sweetly.
"Mmmmmmmm," he said and then motioned for more.
"No, baby. This isn't for Archers. This is for mommies."
His whimpers turned into cries turned into wails until I had no choice but to chug the entire glass and hand it over, empty of its contents.
"Here," I said.
He scowled at me, totally pissed and then went on to scream for ten minutes until I decided to distract him with a walk to the park. I had forgotten about the incident until tonight when my husband was drinking a beer and Archer came over to him and reached for his bottle.
"No, Archer. This is for daddies, not for babies," he said but Archer wanted a taste, anyway.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you," I said. "He's going to like it and then he'll be an alcoholic before he turns 3."
"He's not going to like the taste of beer," Hal said.
"That's what I thought about the coffee."
"Soy lattes taste like candy. Beer tastes like shit for years before it tastes good."
He had a point. Still, I was skeptical.
"Fine. Let him taste it but I'm warning you..."
Archer took a swig, puckered and quickly spit it out.
"See?" Hal said. "Non-issue."
Archer jumped out of his daddy's lap and went back to harassing the dogs until... wait a minute. Maybe that wasn't so bad after all...
"Jesus, Hal! See? He's going back for more! He wants more! He likes beer and coffee and pretty soon it's going to be clove cigarettes and pretty soon he'll be the next Drew Barrymore!"
But thankfully he wasn't going back for more. He climbed into Hal's lap, gave the bottle a swift shove and smiled at me as if to say, "psyche!"
"Smooth, Archer. Real smooth."
But just in case, I told Hal to chug the beer like a frat boy. And he did.
***
