Husband was being especially wonderful to me tonight. I asked to go out to eat because (a) we haven’t gone to the grocery store in 2 ½ weeks (I’ve totally fallen down on the “good wife” thing and stale wheat thins, fuzzy watermelon and old lemonade just don’t make for a good meal) and, (b) I have to do something difficult and emotionally draining tomorrow and, quite frankly, needed a drink and some clarity.
So, off to our friendly neighborhood national family restaurant chain that has enough crayons and kids menus to entertain The Swimmy. (But I will tell you that this is the last time we will choose this as a first option because these people are S……..L……O……..W. And I don’t have that kind of time or patience.)
“Can I get you something to drink?”
YES! A strawberry margarita.
(I never order this drink. Normally I consider it a total pussy drink. But tonight, to remove the black funk about my soul, I wanted to look at something tall, cheerful, frothy and, apparently, pink.)
Husband and I were going to share this vat-o’-Cuervo because otherwise The Swimmy would have to drive home. But once she saw that we were sharing, she wanted to share, too.
Husband and I looked at each other a moment and I fumbled through the “this is not a drink for Swimmies. It’s a drink only for Mommies and Daddies”.
Yeah, THAT’s gonna work…
Until finally, I decided to resort to the old standby which has served me well in the past.
“Well, Swimmy, I wish we could, but it has medicine in it. And you can’t have that.”
“Oh, okay.” (color, color, color…wiggle, wiggle, wiggle…)
Nice! Yes, folks, Dr. Cuervo prescribed this fine medicine for my husband and I tonight and we made sure we took the complete dose. Jose Cuervo you are a friend of mine….