Passout

My Dad Drinks

I have tried to be good, really I have. My cautionary tales of trying to be careful of what you say and do around children have apparently been in vain. There really is no way to guess what can be misrepresented.

I am responsible for the bedtime ritual of tucking the children into bed and I love it. Not only because it starts off adult time but because at the end of the day I get a few minutes with the girls to wish them well for the night and give hugs and kisses. For about a month now they have asked me for themed hugs at bedtime. Themed just means that I am supposed to act like a different animal and give them hugs like that animal might (an elephant uses big flappy ears and trumpets).

The first night I gave “Turkey” hugs where I would proceed to gobble my way to each one and tickle them. Orangutan hugs and penguin hugs are fun ones too.

It never fails that after hugs one of the girls will think of a question or complaint to keep me around and stall at bedtime. Monday night it was my oldest who had been drinking a juice cup as fast as she could go while I was giving monkey hugs goodnight. She finished the juice cup and gasped for air as I was walking out and she called me back into the room.

“Daddy!”

“Yes?”

“I feel dizzy and like I might be sick.”

“Well… You just sucked the bottom out of a juice cup and probably didn’t breath the whole time so I think dizzy is a reasonable feeling.”

“What do you mean?”

I then made a show out of acting like I was drinking her juice cup very intensely and then gasping for breath and laying in the floor. Exaggerating the point and making all of the girls laugh. Then I gave the cup back and told them goodnight and shut the door.

No big deal there right?

The next Saturday we go to a dinner party with the kiddos to play with our friend’s kiddos and just to hang out and have a good time. Fellow blogger familydoctormom, or MaryAnn and her husband the Professor have a couple of girls that our girls love playing with. Everything was going great. Our gracious hosts had dinner, dessert, and entertaining toys for all the kids to play with while we visited in the kitchen. Then the sugar of the cupcakes began to wear the children down and they start flocking back to the parents. Like little alien ships they return to the mothership and crawl up in our laps.

Prima the Ballerina was sitting on the couch and we were chatting with our friends. She made a comment that “Daddy is funny.”

Familydoctormom replies, “Oh yeah? What does daddy do that is funny?”

She doesn’t miss a beat, “He drinks a lot really fast and then passes out in the floor.”

I protest, “Wait wait let me explain.”

Too late, they are all laughing hysterically. I am a little concerned at how easily the description rolled out of her thoughts. Almost like she had said it before…

“So Prima did you tell anyone else about our game?”

“Oh yes. I tell my friends that my daddy drinks until he can’t breathe and falls in the floor and he is so funny.”

She is laughing and so is everyone else and I have nothing to add at that point.

Once again I expect a call from the school or the government any day. I really have to work on descriptions or context or something with these kids. Next thing you know they will be bringing home gifts from the angel tree at school because the teacher feels sorry for my alcoholic struggles.

If you try to make it fun for your children and they portray you as a fall-down drunk then this story is for you. You’re welcome. Underdaddy to the rescue.