This morning, I found this on the floor of the minivan.
It is, as you can see, a water bottle filled with a mysterious red liquid.
I should know better than to ask questions. I should know to just throw it away and get on with my day.
I should know these things.
But I am a curious woman.
Especially when it comes to my shorties.
Instead of throwing it in the nearest garbage can, I looked at my two oldest sons and asked plainly, "Guys, what is this?"
"It's Atomic Firewater, mom," my second son answered.
Oh. Duh. How stupid of me not to recognize Atomic Firewater.
Don't ask any more questions, Clare. You don't want to know.
Or maybe you do.
"Um...Atomic Firewater? What exactly is Atomic Firewater?"
"Well, we shoved like 8 Atomic Fireballs candies into the water bottle to invent a new drink."
"Isn't it awesome?" my son asked, looking as proud as one would be if one just invented fire itself. Or the wheel.
"Well...it just looks kinda gross. And where did you get the Fireballs?"
"At the Easter Egg Hunt at church on Sunday. Duh, don't you remember those, Mom?"
Silly me. I must have missed the Atomic Fireballs lying in the grass, alongside the jelly beans, chocolates, and other Easter candy. But then again, I am not a 9-year old boy.
"Did you guys taste it?"
"Of course. We made each other drink it."
"You made each other drink it?"
Note to self: stop buying expensive, organic, 100% fruit juice. Children will be satisfied with Atomic Firewater. It might rot the teeth clear out of their heads, but whatevs.
"And what did it taste like?"
"Well, it's hot and it buuuurrrrrnnns when it first goes down, but then it just tastes sugary and sweet. Kinda like the middle of a Fireball."
"Guys? Let's leave the Fireballs out of your water next time, mmmkay?"
"Okay, mom. We just had to see what it tastes like. Now we know."
Now they know.
And I do too.