Creating the Next Generation

Wednesday nights at the Dog house are ruled by food, drink and bitches.
Our long time friend Auntie S comes over to watch our programs (Project Runway and when it is on, America's Next Top Model- I like to call this one "the bitches" but honestly you can pretty much apply that to Project Runway as well. And if you want to stretch it a bit farther, Auntie S and I could be included for the sheer quantity of jeers and put downs we toss as the program contestants and judges).

The tradition has roots in our SF home on Walter Street. (once compared to Melrose Place by an annoyed neighbor for all of our late night chatting, drinking and carousing) Back in the day, we would routinely hang out at one of the flats and watch our shows of choice while eating and drinking tons of Trader Joe's finest vintages. Fast forward 10 years and a few of us have settled in Seattle and revived the tradition at our place. The routine is pretty relaxed but involves a cocktail before dinner, dinner and wine (considerably less wine than the Walter Street era, but we still hold our own.)

The addition of the cocktail before dinner is pretty recent. B gave me a great cocktail book for Christmas and I have revived my interest in mixed drinks at home. As you may expect, adults with fancy, pretty drinks inspires a certain level of jealousy in the under 4 foot set. To counteract this, I have been providing them with their own "kiddie cocktails". So far these mostly involve a highly garnished glass of apple juice with a touch of berry puree for color. They love them. And they call them cocktails, just like the grown ups.

As cute as it is, on Thursday morning, when Little Dog was shouting "I wan some gok-tal!" I realized that this might reflect badly on me as a mother if taken out of context. Since he really doesn't understand that the contents of his glass are SIGNIFICANTLY different than the contents of my glass, I see this whole exercise might have been a bad idea. But if you don't get them properly trained to manage a cocktail glass at an early age, they may spend their adult life sloshing their martinis into their laps like, well, like Mr. Dog. I refuse to let that preventable handicap be passed on to my children.