I was married into a family of occasional drinkers, and hailing from a teetotaller family, all alcohol for me was BAD. Though I was kind of getting okay with my husband drinking at times, when the stork came visiting, I insisted on ‘no drinking in front of the baby.’
My husband laughed. How could a baby differentiate between alcohol and water, he reasoned.
Time flew and when my baby started talking, he had to know the names of everything under the sun. He would point at random things and ask the innocent baby question,
And one of those days, he directed his query pointing at the can in my husband’s hand.
My husband answered him mischievously, “Kingfisher.” And when my son asked what Kingfisher was, my husband told him it was some juice. Now my one year old just loved juices, so he started demanding a portion of Kingfisher Juice, and I had to exercise all types of mind diverting techniques to take his mind off Kingfisher.
That night I made my husband promise he would not drink in front of the baby, lest he would be tempted to try it. My husband laughed at the idea of a one year old turning alcoholic, but he agreed.
But during family functions or vacations, he invariably saw men carrying the ‘Kingfisher Cans’ and my little one was curious to know what the forbidden juice was. We had now come up with a unique answer that it was a bitter medicine for cold. I didn’t know how convinced my kid was, but that answer kept his questions at bay.
Come his third birthday and we were at a restaurant, celebrating. The waiter came to take our drink orders and keeping the promise in mind, both me and husband ordered orange juice.
The waiter smiled at my son and asked in a childish tone, “And you Beta?”
Before we could say anything, in front of the entire group, my son looked the waiter in his eyes and spoke loud, “ One Kingfisher.”
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