At least is wasn’t Tequila!

You really don’t need to hear the story. Well, maybe you do. I don’t know….

Whatever….here we go.

We found a stash.

We weren’t looking for a stash. We were not snooping. Really, we weren’t. It wasn’t I that discovered it and I AM THE SNOOPER!!!

SG found it.

You see, and here’s the story behind it…the "not snooping" I mean. SG’s brother is in the hospital. And will be for some time. Or at least until they figure out just what the hell they need to do to fix him. And, he’s bored. Incredibly bored. So bored, in fact, that the food staff and nurses don’t even want to see him due to his incredibly ornery nature (no clue whatsoever if it’s spelled correctly – spell check couldn’t identify it so I’m going with it). Anyway, we thought, well, he has a DVD player, let’s go through our rather limited DVD collection and get him some “guy flicks”. Yes, not a whole helluva lot of chick flicks going on in this house….so we’ll bring him some of our movies. And, with the purchased flicks and flicks that SG’s younger sister has downloaded, we have do have a little bit of a selection of guy movies.

Except, we couldn’t find a lot of them. Hence the search of #1Sons room to see what movies he had stashed in there. TV. DVD player. He’s got to have some.

And it was through this “going-through-the-room-looking-for-movies” event that it was discovered.

Root Beer Schapps and Sambuca. A mickey of each. Right there, in the top drawer, in front of God and the whole world and everybody to see. It was almost like he wanted them to be found. And half full I might add!

Now listen. #1Son is 16 in October. And, whilst having the “conversation” (and I say that because it was a conversation, not a “talking to”) last evening, I seem to remember being 16. Well, at least a little bit. But more importantly, I remember being 14 and mis-behaving with Moody Blue and Baby Duck wine. Not to mention the soda pop flavouring of Lonesome Charlie! Junior High and the school dances. Frick. And then I remembered being 15 and the “spiral staircase” at the University. Four of us would split a six pack of beer and get totally bombed. We’d each have one and then each of our “bff's” would share the last two. Cripes, we’re lucky we didn’t catch a disease, given all the spit swapping that was going on the beer bottles!

And, as the “conversation” progressed I found out where he got the booze from. Albeit begrudgingly he did give this info up (and only on my promise that I wouldn’t go after the bastards that bought it for him).

But here’s the dilemma. He’s not even 16 yet. Sure, he’s 6’ 5” and 240 lbs. He looks like he’s 18. Maybe even older. But he’s still a kid.

All I know is that he IS NOT!!!! going to this party on Saturday night. If he's gonna get drunk, he's gonna get drunk right here, dammit! In the safety of his own yard, with his mother looking out for him. You know, just to make sure he doesn't fall into the bonfire.

I am soooo not ready for this.

Please pray for me.