Over the course of the Kindergarten Year From Hell™, Seamus did a unit on drugs and alcohol. Every day during this unit, he came home with something new and now my every move is being judged my a 5-year-old.
I had a beer one night. He called my mother and told her I was having beer and beer is a drug. Yes, son. A blueberry-flavored drug that keeps me from screaming every once in a while.
Then, one day he noticed I rub a special lotion on my wrists, inner elbows, and back of my neck. “What do you use that for?”
“My eczema.” *shows him the spots on my wrist*
“And that helps it?”
“A bit. Eczema is itchy and makes mommy miserable.”
“That stuff is a DRUG.”
Well, Mary Kay (and mom), thank you for your drugs. You help make me slightly less miserable.
Then he noticed me taking pills one night. Zyrtek and (not every night, but I happened to be this night) Calms Forte. They’re drugs. I take them. They also make me slightly less miserable in my sad little existence.
I drew the line when I was sitting one day drinking a Coke and was informed it was a drug…because it has CAFFEINE in it.
I love you. You’re amazing just the way you are. NEVER. EVER. CHANGE.
Today, I made beer bread with a bottle of my blueberry beer. I love how simple it is to make. Beer, flour, sugar, butter, bake, enjoy. Seamus, who is, of course, out for the summer, helped me make it and FREAKED THE HELL OUT when I poured beer in the mix. BEER IS A DRUG. He freaked out even further when I told him he could have some. BEER IS NOT FOR CHILDREN. BEER WILL MAKE YOU CRAZY. BEER MAKES PARENTS BEAT THEIR CHILDREN.
You bastarding, evil bread. How dare you cause such pain and destruction!
However, you do look quite delicious.
This is the talk I got:
Whittier Elementary School, I would like to thank you for making me insane. Because, by the end of this summer, I’m going to be living on the 13th floor of the local hospital screaming about drugs.