Why stay-at-home-mothers drink
Me: What do you want for breakfast?
3 year-old: (says nothing)
Me: Hey, Iz, what do you want for breakfast?
3 year-old: (mumbles)
Me: Oh, nothing? Okay . . .
3 year-old: (quietly) Goldfish
Me: What?
3 year-old: Goldfish
Me: Goldfish? No. You can have cereal.
3 year-old: No! Goldfish!
Me: No. You can have cereal.
3 year-old: NO! GOLDFISH!
Me: No. You.can.have.cereal. Cereal or nothing.
3 year-old: (wailing and screaming something unintelligible)
Me: :: blink blink ::
3 year-old: (still wailing)
Me: (thinking to self: God, this would be a great time for a drink.)
3 year-old: (still wailing)
Me: (Mimosa? Vodka doesn’t smell. Where did I put the leftover Vicodin from my c-section?)
3 year-old: (sniffling) Wheaties.
Me: Wheaties?
3 year-old: Wheaties.
