Saturday night I had the pleasure of toting my mini-me, J, out on the town for her 21st birthday. She’s the oldest of her group of friends, so only this old lady could take her out for the mandatory cocktails and foolishness. Except… well, she’s not that foolish.
We hit up dinner at the Church Brew Works, where she sipped slowly on a sampler platter of 8 beers (5 oz each) and finished exactly two of them with a large pasta dinner. Then we headed to a neighborhood bar where she started a vodka and Red Bull concoction before we decided to head somewhere a little less crowded. I thought she’d be done in by a long island iced tea, but she just slurped it down slowly while we sat and chatted.
Then we decided to dance, so we grabbed up S and moved on to a dance party. Try though we might, J was on to water, and while she had 2 or 3 shots in the next three hours, she mostly stuck to water and shaking her groove thang. By 12:30, she was ready to go to sleep, so I walked her home and tucked her in on the couch.
She was up and smiling over bacon at breakfast and by noon was out the door and ready to get on her way. And I… well, I feel really old and immature at the same time. If I had half her sense at her age, I would be a lucky woman. Good for you, J.