Alcohol & Ice Cream

On his way home from school with the nanny last week, Luca passed someone on the street who was having trouble staying upright.  Monica, the nanny, proceeded to explain that the man was probably sick and not feeling well and would likely get medical attention, and not to worry.

He still seemed concerned when he got home, though, so I proceeded to assuage Luca's mind by offering up my theory: the man was drunk, honey, and just needed to get home to sleep it off.

Now, this is one of those times when I feel pretty sure I shouldn't have been allowed to leave the hospital with the well-being of this child in my hands.  

BECAUSE WHAT THE FUCK WAS I THINKING BRINGING UP DRUNKEN, DISORDERLY BEHAVIOR?

Luca asked what did it mean to be drunk?  I resisted the temptation to remind him of those copious weekend afternoons when we are with friends and I tell him that no, he can't drink from my glass because it's Mommy Juice and he wouldn't like it anyways.  And instead tell him that it's when someone has had too much alcohol.  Which of course results in asking what alcohol is.  Because I am a dumb-ass and exhausted mother and did not see that one coming, even though it was right there, a foot away and flailing its arms for me to shut my mo-fo mouth.

Like I said, the maternity ward nurses probably should have asked something more than, "Do you have enough diapers?"

So I did what any reasonable, thinking mother would do in that moment - I told Luca we were going to get ice cream.