Friday Confessions

Reader, Hank and I split a 16-ounce bottle of Coke today. Not even Diet Coke, but the genuine Sweet Georgia Brown. For my part, I felt guilt because I was drinking real, actual coke with corn syrup. For Hank's part, I felt guilty that he was drinking real, actual coke with corn syrup, and he is TWO. We never even buy non-diet soda, but we had gotten some for company. This morning, as I was sitting in a sleepy fog in the sunroom, squinting at Wonder Pets, Hank toddled into the kitchen and came back carrying the coke and a plastic cup. He had such a look of triumph and hope on his face that I wanted to indulge him. (Plus I was too lazy at that moment to get up from the couch and get a healthy alternative--another confession!)


So we knocked back a coke, and MAN, did he like it. If you must report me to child protective services, please also tell them about how, later in the morning, he said that his foot was hurt and asked me to kiss it. I kissed the top of his foot, and he said, "No, the other way," and rotated his foot around to indicate that the injury was on the bottom of his foot, which had been just come out of his dusty crocs. He'd been playing in the backyard. So I bent down and kissed the sole of his sweaty, grimy little foot. Then he made a full recovery. I am hoping that mitigates the scandalamitous coke-drinking.

And here's another thing: while I'm waiting for Laura to pack for the sleepover she's going to tonight, I am watching Bravo's preview of "The Real Housewives of Atlanta." I am not watching it by accident, oh no. I recorded it on my DVR, on purpose, because I am a grown-up lady, and I can watch what I want. I am hurt that they didn't ask me to be on this show, but oh, talk about a guilty pleasure! I really can't share any more about this because some things need to stay private.

Anybody else have something to confess?