Wednesday, November 9, 2011

I have a drinking problem...

The first step is acknowledging you have a problem.  Fine, I will take that first step.  I have a drinking problem.  I know, I am just 21 months old and I cannot get enough of the stuff.  If those months were years, this would not be an issue, but alas, I am just a toddler and those months are just months. Anywho, I cannot go through a meal without wanting at least a cupful, and that is a lot for someone with my figure. 

All drinking problems have to start somewhere and mine started with Gillian.  She always wanted a cup at meals and my parents caved in like the craven individuals that they often are.  She looked so cool, relaxed, like she was having a great time.  I wanted that.  I needed that.  I craved that.

So now we are at lunch.  I had carrots and a quesadilla, pretty standard fare.  What goes good with that lunch?  That is right, a cup of the good stuff.  My mom had her cup and I really wanted it.  I had been seeing G partake at meals and wanted to make that mine.  My mom did not want to share, so she poured me my own cup.  I was so nervous with this being my first time; I did not know what to do.  I was winging this and I know I made some mistakes.  I made a huge faux pas by dipping my quesadilla into it.  Not half bad actually.  It accentuated the cheese really nicely.  So I decided to dip my carrot into it.  As I got the carrot up to my mouth, I decided I was more interested in "the sauce" than I was in the carrot.  I sucked the groovy gravy right off of that carrot and proceeded to dip like it was the Passover of 1999 (I heard there was A LOT of dipping that year).  The carrot was not getting enough into my mouth.  A choice had to be made.  I am not proud of my decision.  Please do not lose respect for me.  I threw the carrot on the ground, picked up the cup, took a deep breath, and just started to drink.  It was leaking out my mouth onto my shirt and smearing all over my face.  When done, there was a sizable burp and I wanted more.  Since that meal, I scream until my mom brings me the cup of the good stuff.  I need help.  Please.  I am too young to be experiencing addiction like this.

My name is Asher and I am a ranchaholic. 

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