“Cheers!” exclaims 3-year-old Jake as he holds his cup of juice high in the air over lunch. And it was a day to celebrate… His mom, Debbie, had invited over a new friend and her son for lunch and playtime.
Later the moms were chatting and it came out that the visiting family is pretty religious.
“Oh, what church?” asked Debbie. The new friend’s answer caused Jake’s lunchtime toast to reverberate in Debbie’s head for the rest of the day, or possibly the week. She belongs to a religion that frowns heavily on drinking: “Latter-day Saints,” she said.
I got such a giggle out of the irony and relayed the story to my friend Ann, who remembered a similar story of her own:
When she was 5 or 6, she was playing at the home of a friend whose family were pretty strong Baptists. It was approaching dinner time, so she asked her friend’s mom what was, in her mind, a very logical question: “When’s cocktail hour?” After all, it’s what happened in her house — her parents had a drink before dinner and Ann joined them with a Shirley Temple.
Mom answered with a huge smile: “Oh, honey, we don’t have cocktail hour here.”
This little exchange secured Ann’s place as Mom’s Favorite Friend.
So, after hearing Ann’s story, I remembered something I said as a kid:
When I was 5, I stayed for a week and my grandparents’ house. One night they took me to a nice dinner and the Ringling Brothers Circus. We were at the table in the restaurant and they were deciding on what to drink. My Papa said to me: “We’ll order you a soft drink.” Sounded good to me.
My Shirley Temple arrived and I immediately took a sip. The carbonation must have shocked me, because I looked at the both of them and said: “It tastes like a hard drink to me!”