A huge thank you to dharmamonkey for looking this over for me and for her great suggestions. She's a true master of the finer details and things that I just flat-out missed after spending too many hours staring at this thing.

Parker walked out of the school building, already looking for his mom's ice blue Sebring. He'd had a bad day, and all he wanted was to get out of there already.

His morning had started out okay, until he'd spilled orange juice on himself in the cafeteria during breakfast time. Normally, he would have eaten at home, but his dad didn't wake up on time to get ready and make breakfast and he didn't want to bother Brennan with having to get up and wait on him, so he had just asked his dad for a few dollars to get something at school, which he'd been doing more and more lately, which was fine with him.

On the way to class, he'd accidentally stepped in some fresh gum and strung it across his sock and other shoe. He tracked it all the way to his next class where he got in trouble for getting it on the carpet, as if it was his gum. He rolled his eyes, but took the scolding anyway, knowing that back-talking would have just made it worse.

In math, he discovered that he'd forgotten to do an entire worksheet because he left it in his locker over the weekend. His dad and Brennan always checked his homework and made sure that it was done, and done correctly, but it didn't help if it wasn't there to be checked. So his only option was to turn it in the next day where the highest grade he would be able to get was a 70, which was much lower than any of his other grades. He was disappointed in himself for this oversight.

His day didn't get any better from there.

In P.E., the boys had been forced to run laps the entire period because the locker room had been left a disaster over the weekend and the coaches were mad.

Parker was sure that he'd never run more in his entire life. He liked running and exercising, but this really was overkill and he saw it as unfair to punish all of the kids when the problem was due to only a handful of the boys.

After that, at lunch, he had to sit next to a girl that he was sort of kind of starting to like, which was totally fine with him until she'd asked why he was all sweaty and told him that it was a little gross.

Honestly, Parker didn't think his day could get any worse, but was proved wrong when he was tardy to his English class because his locker wouldn't open. The strap of his backpack had gotten jammed into the edge of the locker, effectively wedging it shut. He'd had to get help from some teacher he didn't know in the hall, and the teacher wouldn't give him a tardy pass because 'he needed to take more responsibility when closing his locker rather than just slamming it shut without looking.'

Parker had been optimistic through most of the day that it would get better, but at this point, he just gave up and took it as it came.

His tardy resulted in lunch detention for the next day, as it was his third tardy. The whole situation was totally unfair. Three minutes really was not enough time to get across campus from the cafeteria, get his books from his locker and go to the bathroom before the tardy bell.

His normal science partner wasn't in school that day, so he was paired with someone he was pretty sure wouldn't pull their weight in the day's lab activity. He was right. He did most of the work while the other kid freeloaded off his work. He tried to say something to the teacher about it, but was brushed off, as he'd gotten the impression that the teacher just really didn't care. He'd have to tell his dad about this.

The last bell couldn't ring fast enough for Parker.

When he was out on the sidewalk, finally, after all of the crap he'd put up with that day, he was disappointed that his mom wasn't in her normal spot.

He looked around, thinking that maybe she was parked somewhere else, but still didn't see her car.

He stood there for a few more seconds before hearing his name called out. He turned his head and looked toward the line of traffic to see his mom and Wendell standing outside of a car that Parker assumed belonged to Wendell.

He let out a sigh of relief and started toward them at a run. He was so happy to get to go home, where he hoped things would go better. Seeing his mom and the friendly, familiar face of her new boyfriend breathed life back into his optimism that the day would get better.

He wasn't even shy about walking right up to her and giving her a big hug right in front of all of his peers before they all got into the car.

"How was your day, baby? You look exhausted."

"That's—well, let me quote dad: I could really use a drink, but I'll settle for a milkshake."

He'd often heard his dad tell Bones that same thing at the end of a long day.

This caused the two adults to laugh. "Your dad has always been funny like that. So you had a bad day, huh?" Rebecca asked her son.

"Yep. Everything that could go wrong, did," Parker said on a sigh, looking out the windows as they crept forward in the long line of cars waiting to exit the parking lot.

"That's what people call Murphy's Law," Rebecca said.

"They have a name for it?" Parker asked with exasperation.

"Anything that can go wrong, will go wrong," Rebecca replied. "That's Murphy's Law."

"Yeah, and it all seemed to happen at the worst possible times, too," Parker added despondently.

"Ah, in that case, it would be Finagle's Law, not Murphy's Law," Wendell interjected, looking back in the rearview mirror at Parker.

"They named that, too?" Parker couldn't believe it.

"People have bad days all the time. Naming all of the principle's behind bad days serves as a sort of joke that everyone understands," Rebecca responded, trying to add some comfort to her son as she tried to let him know that he wasn't alone in having bad days.

"Are there any other of these laws?" Parker asked, intrigued to learn something new—something that was comforting to him.

Wendell immediately came up with one: "There's Hofstadter's Law that says, 'It always takes longer than you expect, even when you take into account Hofstadter's Law.' Doctor B. actually says this to her graduate students who are working on dissertations. She says it a lot, actually."

"Oh, and there's Herblock's Law, 'If it's good, they'll stop making it,'" Rebecca added. "There are a lot of these little eponymous laws."

"What does that mean?" Parker asked. "Epi—"

"Ep-on-uh-mus," Rebecca repeated slowly so that he could catch the pronunciation. "It's just all of the little rules of life."

"There's a lot, huh?"

"Yeah," both adults responded.

Wendell continued, "There is one that is exactly like Murphy's Law, but also says that bad fortune will be tailored to the individual. Ever hear the term unlucky sod?" He asked, knowing that Parker probably had whether he realized it or even if he didn't know what it meant.

"I think so," Parker said, as the car was on its way—finally—down the street to go to the Booth residence.

"It's called Sod's Law," Wendell went on to explain. "A good example would be Beethoven. Incredible musician and composer. What happened? He went deaf. His misfortune was directly related to what was basically his whole life. There's another that I can think of off the top of my head. Adolf Coors III was the heir to the Coors beer empire, but the guy was allergic to beer."

"I'm not a fan of that law," Parker said. "I hope nothing that cruel ever happens to me."

"I hope not, either, Parker," Rebecca replied, cringing at the thought of any misfortune being bestowed upon her only child.

.

When they arrived at the house, they all went inside.

They could smell it before they opened the front door. Brennan was cooking something and it smelled heavenly.

"Something sure smells good, Doctor B," Wendell called out into the house from the entryway where he and Rebecca stood as Parker ran off to put his things in his room.

Brennan poked her head out of her home office, "Oh, hello!" She greeted. "I didn't hear the door open."

"It's okay; we just got here. We're waiting on Parker to put his things away, and then we are going to go get a milkshake from the diner. He had a rough day at school," Rebecca explained.

"Actually, could the milkshake wait until after dinner?" Brennan asked. "I've made something special. Booth will be home from work at a decent time since he is teaching instead of working cases."

"Yeah, we can wait," Rebecca agreed.

"Would you like to stay for dinner? There's plenty. Actually, there's a lot. I don't think I realized how much that crock pot could really hold, and it's full."

Rebecca looked at Wendell. He smiled and shrugged, "I'm good with whatever you want, Rebecca, but whatever it is smells really good. I think we should stay."

"Parker would love it if you stayed as well," Brennan added.

"Okay, are you sure we wouldn't be imposing?"

"Positive," Brennan responded.

"What is it anyway?" Wendell asked. "It smells fantastic."

Brennan placed her book down on a decorative table on the way to the kitchen, "Come, I'll show you."

Brennan led them to the crock-pot. She smiled proudly and handed the copy of the recipe to Rebecca, thinking that perhaps she would recognize it.

"Is this… Oh my goodness," Rebecca said with wide eyes, looking up from the copy of a handwritten recipe. "This is Grace's recipe; isn't it?"

"Yes."

"Who is Grace?" Wendell asked.

"Gram, Booth's grandmother," Rebecca responded, quietly. "This," she smiled, slightly teary, "this will mean a lot to him. It really will. Besides Hank's grilled cheese, this was his favorite."

"Was Grace still alive when—?"

"Yeah, she was. She was a sweet woman, too. Very kind, but cheeky, too. A lot like Seeley. You probably think Hank is where he gets most of his charm right?"

Brennan nodded a little.

"That's true, but really, he got most it from her. Everything genuine about that man came from her. And she was a fantastic cook."

"He's said that before when I asked him to tell me about her."

"It's true. I've had this before when she made it," Rebecca said, holding up the recipe.

"Maybe you could taste it and make sure it's close?" Brennan asked.

"Sure."

Brennan handed her a spoon, and Rebecca lifted the lid of the crock-pot.

The scent of the food wafted out of the pot strongly when the lid was lifted.

"It certainly smells the same." She dipped the spoon in and blew on it to let it cool a bit before putting it to her lips for a taste. "Oh, God, yes. It's just like hers. Seeley will love this."

"I had hoped so," Brennan said. "Hank sent it to me a few days ago and said I should make it for Seeley." She'd said the name she used mostly in private, without thinking. She blushed a little when Wendell smiled at her.

"Can I taste?" Wendell asked.

"I want a taste, too," Parker said, walking into the kitchen. "What are we tasting?"

"It's was one of your father's favorite foods growing up," Rebecca said.

"It's Gram's recipe," Brennan added.

"Really? What is it?"

Before Brennan or Rebecca could answer, they heard Wendell hissing and breathing cool air over his tongue, "S'hot, hot!"

Rebecca turned to Brennan, "Does Seeley still do that, too? Is it some kind of man law to not let your food cool enough before putting it in your mouth?"

"Must be," Brennan shrugged. "Seeley is always blistering the roof of his mouth with hot pizza toppings."

"What is it?" Parker asked again, a slight impatience to his tone, which earned him a look from both maternal figures. "Sorry."

"Venison Chili," Brennan answered him.

They heard more hissing from Wendell. When he noticed everyone staring at him, "What? I had to do a second taste test as a control. Doctor B., you of all people should understand the importance of a control."

Brennan smiled, knowing already that it had been a very good idea to make Gram's dish.

"I love chili," Parker said.

"Well, this will be like nothing you've ever had, Parker," Rebecca informed him.

"My turn!"

Wendell dipped the spoon back in and handed it down to Parker.

"Let it cool, first," Brennan scolded, seeing that he was already bringing the spoon to his lips.

He stopped, blew on the food a bit, and then tipped it into his mouth. "Wow."

.

When Booth walked in the door around 4:45, he froze. At lunch, when he'd been home, he had smelled some kind of food beginning to cook, but that aroma that hit him when he opened the door. He knew that smell.

But it couldn't be. He shrugged away the thought and stepped toward the coat closet to hang up the Range Master Vest that he'd brought home with him and his leather jacket as well. At lunch, he'd changed from his suit, to more comfortable clothes, fit for shooting at the range, a nice pair of dark jeans and a snug-fitting black FBI T-shirt. He toed off his checkered Vans and stepped into the family room, where the sounds of a movie were playing rather loudly over the surround sound that Hodgins had helped install when they moved in.

He didn't expect to see his ex-girlfriend and ex-temporary partner cuddled up on the couch together. Not only was he still getting used to that idea—as much as he approved of the new relationship—he just really didn't expect anyone to be in there except his wife and kid.

"Hey, you two. Where's Parker and Bones?"

Rebecca turned the movie volume down before speaking, "Parker went to the restroom to wash his hands before going to set the table, and Temperance is in the kitchen."

"I wish she would just sit down and relax," Booth said, shaking his head. "Stubborn woman."

"I heard that," Brennan pouted as she walked into the room. She walked up to Booth and bumped into him a little bit. "Sorry," she laughed. "My dimensions significantly change daily." She leaned in for a kiss and a hug.

"Eh, nothing like a little love bump, huh?" Booth laughed, rubbing the sides of her belly and then wrapping his arms around her.

Booth kept his arms around her back and rubbed her shoulders and lower back a bit before she pulled away.

"Dinner is ready," she said a few beats later.

Rebecca and Wendell stood from the couch and they all made their way to the formal dining room where Parker had most everything set up.

"Good, I'm starving," Booth said eagerly, rubbing his stomach. "I got out of there early, but it was a long day."

"Good, I hope?" She asked.

"Yeah, just different. What's for dinner? I've been thinking about that crock-pot all damn afternoon! And when I walked in just now, I could've sworn…"

"What?" She asked.

"It's just—I thought—but that's impossible, never mind." He waved her off.

"No, Booth. What did you think?" Brennan looked to Wendell and gave him a nod. He went into the kitchen to grab the ceramic dish from the crock-pot as everyone else sat down.

Booth tilted his head, wondering why she was pushing this. Deep down, he already knew, but on the surface, he was in denial and still saw it as an impossibility.

"Bones?"

"I want to know…what did you think, Booth?" she asked.

"Wh—when I walked in, I swear… God, it smells just like it. Gram, she used to make this chili. God, it was the best chili on the planet—and before you go and tell me to stop being so hyperbolic, it really was, Bones. It was the best. The. Best."

"What if I told you that it wasn't your imagination?" Brennan kept her eyes locked on his, gauging his reaction. She knew that it would bring on a great deal of emotion for him, and part of her worried that she'd somehow disappoint him or that he wouldn't be as happy as she or Rebecca had thought he'd be. She didn't want him to resent her for trying to replicate one of his favorite memories of his grandmother, only to have it flop.

Wendell walked back into the room with the hot ceramic dish and he set it on a potholder on the table.

Brennan stood slightly to reach the lid and lifted it off the dish.

"Bones?" Booth's voice cracked. "How—?" The question, a whisper on his lips that was barely audible.

With a small smile, Brennan took Booth's soup bowl from his placemat in front of him and scooped a generous portion into it. "Hank sent me the recipe. He said he found it when he was looking for something and he wanted me to make it for you."

"I don't know what to say. I haven't had this since—" He choked up a little. "Since Gram had that major stroke a few months before she passed. And it was the one recipe missing from her cookbook that Pops gave me several years ago."

"Rebecca tasted it earlier to make sure that it was right," Brennan said as she set the bowl in front of Booth.

He tentatively picked up his soup spoon.

"It smells right," Booth said, dipping his spoon into the chili and swirling it around his bowl, "looks right, too."

Rebecca smiled sweetly at Booth when he looked up at hearing her voice, "Seeley, I know that I only had it a couple of times and that I didn't grow up having this all the time like you did, but from what I remember, it tastes the same to me."

Booth finally drew the spoon out and let it cool a beat before bringing it to his lips for a taste.

When the slightly spicy layers of rich flavor hit his senses, he closed his eyes against the slight burning in the corner of his eyes.

Brennan held her breath, as did everyone else at the table, waiting for his response.

He slowly opened his eyes as a big, boyish grin split across his face, his eyes glassy and bright.

"Bones, this is—it's amazing. It's just like hers. It is. You know, Pops tried to make this for me when I'd come visit after Gram had passed, but it was never the same, but you really got it there."

"I'm glad. It's a real relief." Brennan served Parker before serving herself and passing the spoon around to Rebecca and Wendell.

"I had actually thought about making it for you for Valentine's Day, since we were going to just spend the evening at home," Brennan continued as they all started to eat. "I don't care much for the day, but you do, and I wanted it to be special for you, but at the same time, I didn't want to ruin the day if I had gotten it wrong. I was nervous that you wouldn't like it if it wasn't just—"

"Bones, I love it. Don't worry. I would have loved you for trying, even if it wasn't right," Booth said firmly and didn't break eye contact with his wife until she nodded a bit with a satisfied smile. "Really, this means a lot to me."

"I know."

Brennan took out the sheet of paper, placed it in front of her husband, and watched as he traced his fingers over Grace's handwriting.

Throughout the rest of the dinner, Booth and Brennan shared many moments of silent exchanges and lingering glances between them as the conversation turned to the twins and the developments and growth spurts that would occur during the thirty-first week in the womb.

Rebecca, Wendell and Parker enjoyed watching the two of them doing what they do best, and it made all three of them extremely happy for the couple in front of them that they had such a good, strong friendship and relationship.

Parker was just happy that his parents were all getting along well together. He knew that his mom and dad used to have a lot of tension between them, no matter how much they tried to shelter him from that fact. He also knew that he was lucky to have such a good stepmother and that she had a good friendship with his biological mother as well. He knew kids that didn't have it so easy. And he was ecstatic that his mother was moving on with her life and trying to start fresh, and choosing to do so with someone as cool as Wendell.

But the thing he was the most thankful for was the fact that his day did get better after all.

.

After dinner, Rebecca and Wendell took Parker out for the milkshake they had promised him earlier in the day. Upon being dropped off at home, Parker decided to get an immediate start on his homework—he'd been extra careful to grab all of it from his locker earlier that afternoon.

He grabbed his book bag from his room and went into the home office where Brennan was lounging on the loveseat with the laptop balanced on what was left of her lap, working on her book, while his dad was drinking a beer and working on a game plan for his class for the rest of the week.

Parker pulled a chair out at the table across from his dad and set out everything he needed to do. He watched his father take a drink and then make some notes for several minutes. He pulled out his calculator and started on his math homework that he was supposed to turn in that day.

He did a few problems before tossing his calculator onto the table.

"I don't even feel like putting my best effort into this math. The highest I can get is a 70 anyway," Parker said, breaking the silence. "It's almost not worth it because I won't get what I know I deserve no matter how well I do."

Both adults looked up from their work, but it was Booth who spoke, "Why?"

"I accidentally left it in my locker over the weekend and it was due today," Parker said, rolling the corner of the worksheet up a bit.

"Well, there has to be some penalty for it being late, Parker," Booth said. "This may have been a one-off accident for you, but the teachers have to have a penalty in place so that the due date means something to the other kids. The teachers can't make an exception for you just because it was an accident or it wouldn't be fair."

"I know, but it still bothers me. I guess…I don't know; maybe I'm just mad at myself for it."

"It happens to all of us, Bub. Bones told me about your bad day while you were out with your mom and Wendell."

"Yeah, I guess. Mom and Wendell told me all about Murphy's Law and a few others. Did you know that the heir to one of the biggest beer company's was allergic to beer? Crazy."

"That sounds like Sod's Law," Brennan said.

"That's what Wendell said."

To Booth, Brennan explained, "Sod's Law is a more complex derivative of Murphy's law that dictates that the misfortunate occurrences are tailor made to the individual. For instance, Booth, you are an FBI agent and a sharpshooter who is currently teaching a gun class, right? Well, if something bad were to happen to your shooting hand or perhaps your eyesight—"

"You'd be an unlucky sod, because that is directly related to something that is a big part of your life," Parker finished.

"Okay, thanks for using me as an example, Bones. I didn't have enough to worry about in our line of work," The sarcasm was oozing out of his tone and not even Brennan missed it in this instance.

"Sorry," she said with a smile before returning to her laptop for a few seconds. "But I think that despite the bad start to your day, Parker, I'm glad that an opportunity to learn a few new things that arose from the string of misfortune you experienced during your school day."

Booth took a swig of his beer and set the bottle down, drawing Parker's attention towards him.

"Dad, what does beer taste like?" he asked.

The lead on Booth's pencil snapped as he pressed too hard.

Where did that come from? Booth asked himself. Booth remembered asking his Pops that very same question right around Parker's age. Crap. Fuck.

Booth panicked further at remembering Pops' response to the question.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

I could lose my job for what I'm about to do—not to mention go to jail or get a hefty fine, Booth thought, but it really is the best way to answer the question and it's what Pops did for me and it was the most godawful shit I'd ever tasted up until that point and it effectively answered my question in a way that words never would have been able to with the added bonus of me never wanting the foul shit anywhere near me ever again.

"Want a sip?" he asked Parker, quietly.

Brennan heard his question, and her head shot up. "Booth! He's a minor!"

"Yeah, I know that, but this is how Pops answered me when I asked that question. I'm just offering a small sip, not a six pack. Just trust me, here," he said to her. When she saw a look on his face that told her he would explain his reasoning to her later, she nodded a bit and pretended to return to her work, but kept a close eye on the situation to see what would happen.

She knew that Booth was a good father, and knew that if he was doing this, he had his reasons.

Booth turned back to a nervous-looking Parker. "Do you want a sip? Just a small taste."

Booth slid the bottle across the table and indicated to Parker with a nod that it really was okay.

"Really?" he asked, just wanting to make absolute sure.

"Sure, go ahead."

Parker took the bottle, looked at his dad and then at the bottle itself.

"Wait," Booth said, stopping Parker as he tipped the bottle almost to his mouth. Booth leaned over the table and gathered Parker's homework and books into a neat pile and moved them off the table. "We'd better move these to a safe spot," he said with a small smile, knowing exactly what was going to happen. "Okay, go for it, Bub."

This made Parker a little more nervous, but he was still so floored by the fact that his father had offered him a taste that he wasn't able to figure out why his father thought it was important to move the homework.

Brennan watched from behind her laptop screen, hiding a small smile, now having an idea of where Booth was going with this little demonstration.

Parker brought the bottle to his lips once more and he took a big swig of the carbonated liquid just as he would if he were drinking a soda out of a bottle.

The beer had barely had time to touch his tongue before Parker was already trying to expel it from his mouth. Just as Booth knew it would, the beer spewed from Parker's mouth and all over himself and the table in front of him.

"Uck, ulch! Gross. You drink that crap? Ickk," Parker nearly yelled, trying to catch his breath as his face scrunched up in clear distaste.

"Yeah," Booth chuckled. "Gross, huh?"

"Understatement, dad. I'm never gonna drink that stuff ever again. That Coors guy wasn't missing anything by being allergic to that junk."

"Good. I'm glad to hear you say that," Booth said, with a hint of smugness, as he made a mental note to thank Pops the next time he talked to him on the phone. "Never say never," Booth said, knowing that Parker would eventually try beer again. After all, he did. "But you'll be in deep shit, if I find out that you went back on your word there before you're legally of age to do so."

"I don't think you have to worry, dad. That was not fun or pleasant and now I stink," Parker said, holding up his arms and pinching his wet shirt away from his chest a bit.

"Good thing I moved your homework, huh? Go have a shower, change and then come back to finish your homework."

"Okay; do you want me to clean up my mess?" Parker asked.

"No, Park, it was my idea. I'll clean it up. You just go worry about cleaning yourself up so that you can get back to your homework."

"K." Parker left the room, already pulling the stinky shirt over his head.

Booth went to the bathroom to grab a wet washcloth and a towel and cleaned up the mess.

Afterward, he sat next to his wife on the loveseat.

"Hank did that to you, too?" Brennan asked with a raised brow. It seemed nearly cruel to her, but she could also see that it had an impact.

"Yeah," Booth responded. "After dad left, I was so mad, you know? I knew dad drank. He did it openly, all the time and never bothering to hide it. After he left, I just asked Pops what it tasted like. He gave me a taste, and just like Parker did, I spewed it everywhere."

"Did you vow to never drink it again, too?" Brennan asked.

"Funny thing is that I did. I said that I would never drink it again, and you know what? I didn't try it again until I was of legal age, but more than that, I got a taste of the foul nasty stinky shit that my dad would rather waste his life drinking than being a father to me and Jared. That's when I finally realized that I was okay with dad leaving like he did. I came to terms with the fact that he was gone."

He was silent for a few minutes to let that statement hang in the air between them. "I'm glad that this little milestone for Parker doesn't hold that kind of weight for him. I'm also glad that he asked me rather than trying to satisfy his curiosity by sneaking around with friends or having to deal with his friends pressuring him into trying the stuff. I was there to supervise his first taste of alcohol. It didn't go well for him and he doesn't feel pressured to drink more out of obligation of feeling like he'd be a wuss if he didn't continue drinking."

"I wasn't sure where you were going with offering him a taste, at first. I didn't see the potential for the lesson there. I'm sorry that I tried to interrupt; I shouldn't ha—"

Booth stopped her words with a brief peck on the lips.

"No, don't apologize. You didn't know. I had to think pretty quickly there, and to be honest, I almost panicked when I realized what he'd asked me. Thanks for trusting me with little explanation."

"You're a good father, Booth."

"I'm glad you think so, because I really felt bat-shit crazy for offering my eleven year old son alcohol," Booth dropped his head back against the cushion.

"And you wouldn't have gone through with it if you didn't trust Hank's method due to your own experience and your own instincts that the results would be the same. Our kids are lucky to have you in their lives." She paused and squeezed his hand. "I'm lucky."

"Says the woman who doesn't believe in luck," Booth said, squeezing her shoulder and laughing a bit.

"My dad always said that those who choose not to believe in luck do so because they haven't any good reason to believe in luck. Those who consistently experience misfortune in their life, as I did for far too many years, will always say they don't believe in luck."

"And now?"

"Now," she paused, running her fingers over the keys of her laptop, lightly, but not pressing down, "now, maybe I have a reason to believe."

She closed her laptop and set it aside so that she could curl herself into Booth's side as he pulled her in closer to him for a hard, lingering kiss.

Some things to note:

I imagine people will have differing views on the issue of giving a child a taste of beer in this manner. Some probably have had similar experience from their parents and some may consider it child abuse. Everyone is free to express their opinions on this idea, but please do so kindly. I know that not everyone would be okay with this.

My dad did this to me around at that age, and I didn't try it again until I was of legal age. Still not a fan of beer. And oddly enough, this same method is the reason I don't drink coffee… I had a taste when I was very young. Hated it, and now I won't drink it unless it is 98% creamer and 2% coffee LOL. I'm more of a tea person.

Please leave a review. I worked very hard and value the readers' thoughts very much. I love alerts and favorites, but it's nice to know what your likes and dislikes are.

Another huge thanks to the monkey.

XOXO,
CrayonClown