This afternoon, I took Joey with me to the grocery store. He was running, and fell on the sidewalk. After some initial tears, I calmed him down, put him in the cart because he said he couldn't walk, and kissed his head.
"Are you OK?" I asked.
"No," Joey said. "I think I need some alcohol."
There are a few moments in a mother's life where she wants nothing more than to walk away and pretend she is in no way associated with the child in front of her, no matter how much she loves said child, so that people do not forever associate her with being a "bad" mother. This was one of those moments
Particularly because we'd just walked out of the ABC store.
He said it loudly enough to draw some disapproving stares from nearby women. With a nervous laugh, praying no one was preparing to call CPS, I said something about how he was kidding, and didn't he mean he wanted some antibacterial cream? My ears grew hot and I hurried into the store to hide in the aisles among people who had not heard my child's exclamation.
And just so you know, I don't give my kids alcohol. My husband calls Hydrogen Peroxide "rubbing alcohol", to which Joey referred.
Beth - 0 (My face is still red)
Joey - 1