I think there is a beer gene. I think Josh passed it onto our little Pweiser.
When Parker was a wee-bot the doctor told me I would know he is ready to try solids when he starts looking at, and going for, our food.
The first thing he went for was my Guinness.
Then at a his first Super Bowl Party I caught him dancing on the bar in a friends basement in his monkey butt pants.
On his first birthday, two of my uncles helped him celebrate...
So I suppose I should not be surprised that on Monday in the grocery store at around 4:00p.m. my two year old announced, for the whole shopping public to hear, "I want beer!"
I relayed this story to a friend and she said, "Oh, what did he mean? Like root beer?"
No. Sadly. He actually meant beer.
Please understand, he has never actually had beer. We have given him sips of coffee in the hopes he would hate it and stop grabbing at our mugs in the morning. Of course, he loves it.
We went to the RenFest over the weekend and he got a "tattoo" A snake tattoo. On his face.
Such and innocent face, but isn't it always the ones with the innocent faces?