Lady E. Needs Rehab

In my last post, I wrote that I had ingested some cheap Cabernet (thanks LWS) and mulled over the injustices of life, but promised that in my next post I would return to a light tone.

It was not to be: I found out this week that Lady E. has a drinking problem.

Note North Korean dictator hairstyle-- a sure sign of a problem.

The other day, our daughter apparently had a hard day at the office and, to forget her infant troubles for a few hours, took to the bottle for solace. Naturally, when I found out that she was using booze to help ease the strain of her daily baby grind, I knew we had to stage an intervention right away:
“Imbibing wine because you’re concerned about coronary heart disease at eight months old is a rationalization for your self-destructive behavior,” I said. “Your bon vivant lifestyle has to end.”

Elena explained that she considered her drinking “only a constitutional” and that “all the other kiddies were doing it, too.”

Stern and concerned father that I am, I rejected her excuses and, as her punishment, confined her to the apartment until she was able to stand upright, walk unassisted and control her own bowels.


(Disclaimer: For those not inclined to satire, our baby daughter did NOT drink wine. This post is intended only as humor and a contrivance.)