Drink Up!

Becky is a germaphobe. A hard core one. I have no idea where she got this from. (It certainly wasn't from me. I used to ski in the cow manure when I was her age. No, I'm not kidding.) The fact that Becky asked for GermX in her Christmas stocking proves that she's not really my child. And that's the tip of the iceberg. It started with the typical things like not eating after someone else, then moved on to not drinking out of the same straw. (We had her convinced at one point that if she took it out and turned it end for end before reinserting it was all good. She has since figured that out.) Now she wont' even eat anything that someone else touched. Like bread. If her brother hands her a piece of bread she'll get another slice. It's extreme, people. She is Queen of the Teenage Germaphobe Society.

So we were at Starbucks (I need sustenance, okay?) and I bought Becky a double chocolate chip frappuccino. She declared it was the best thing since sugar was discovered so I asked for a sip. She's right, it is good.

But now she had a problem. There were gross mom-germs on the straw. She could not drink off it without fear of getting old and ugly before her time. I told her to take the straw out, turn it end for end, and put it back in. That's how I learned that she's onto me - she declared that it spread even more germs, even more quickly, because the whole drink was contaminated. She's right, you know.

She finally got desperate and got a napkin out of the glove box to wipe the straw with. I found this in and of itself rather fascinating, but knew better than to say anything. Josh didn't. Or couldn't help himself.

"You wiped it with a rat pee napkin?"

The look on her face was absolutely priceless. She took the straw out, and held her drink until we got home. Obviously, she'd forgotten about the mice who made nests out of the napkins in the glove box.

Kids are so fun to mess with. And don't worry. I already know that Mom of the Year will never be mine.