I'm fairly certain my son doesn't trust me. Not one iota.

Today, I had my little Lagunitas jar/glass filled with ice and an unidentified liquid.


When he came out in the kitchen, which has become my de-facto office during the pandemic, I handed it to him and said, "Try it."

He replied with, "No! I don't want to try it. I don't want it to be some of your wine." Because, yanno, my drink of choice when I work is wine. (Not even remotely the truth.)

After some cajoling, I finally convinced him to take a grimace-laden sip. Then he looked at me and said, "Lemonade?" Then he walked away saying, "I thought it was going to be wine."

So, yeah, either he doesn't trust me at all or he thinks I'm a moderately functioning alcoholic. Or both. None of the above cast me in a positive light by any stretch of the imagination.

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