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TIFU by ordering an irresistible fruity drink and becoming “father of the year”

When I order drinks, I usually keep it simple.

Bourbon and Coke, Gin and Tonic, Scotch on the rocks, the occasional Old Fashioned...that kind of thing.

But on the date of this fuckup, dear readers, I decided to mix it up.

So I'm with my family at a nondescript casual restaurant chain. You know the type. They're all over suburbia, decorated with kitschy local sports stuff/music memorabilia/antique ads/etc and populated by perky wait staff (who most likely secretly hate their jobs).

The waitress asks for my drink order, and instead of going with one of my usual standbys, I feel whimsical and order something off the menu with the words "tropical" in the name.

When she brings our drinks, mine is an explosion of colors with a cornucopia of tropical fruit adorning the sides. It's super sweet (probably has enough sugar in it to last two days), but tasty, refreshing, and stronger than I would have initially expected.

After drinking about a quarter of it, I go to hit the Gentleman's Room. Upon my return from the facilities, my (4 yo at the time) daughter has this mischievous and somewhat conspiratorial look on her face. She leans in and says to me, almost in a whisper:

"Daddy, I tried your pretty drink. It tasted a little weird, but I liked it!"

My eyebrows raise a little, but I know I shouldn't overreact, as she probably just had a tiny sip. I try to calmly (but assertively) explain that it's a grownup drink, and not for kids. My wife (bless her heart) realizes what has happened and is a little less reserved in telling our daughter, in her serious mom voice that "Don’t EVER drink a grownup drink. It’ll make you sick. They’re only for grownups".

Our daughter seems suitably chastened, and our food arrives. Then, she starts whining...

"I feel really sick now! My stomach hurts!"

Part of me thinks this is just psychosomatic, because we put the idea in her head of the inevitability of her getting ill. But then:

BLUUUUUUUURRRRRGGGGHHH

(onomatopoeia mine)

All over the table. And it was projectile. 😑

While my wife is dealing with the vomit-soaked table, I rush her to the bathroom, and then I'm suddenly reliving freshman year as I'm holding her hair back as she vomits some more into the toilet. All the while, I'm thinking "Parents of the year! I wonder when CPS is coming" 🤦🏻‍♂️

Needless to say, we never returned to that restaurant.

EDIT: before anyone asks why my wife wasn’t watching her while I was gone, we also have a son who was two at the time, that likely took a lot of her attention.

TLDR: I order a pretty but very alcoholic drink that proves irresistible to a toddler, and she throws up uncontrollably

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