« The Mean Reds | Main | Sick and Tired »

I don’t just like water. I’m addicted to it.

Here are my water rules: (1) It must be ice cold, (2) It must taste good ("good" is defined as what I like, these days satisfied by water filtered through a Brita pitcher), and, lastly, (3) It must be served in a plastic cup.

I know the last rule might sound a little weird, but it’s what I like, and besides, I think part of adulthood is no longer wasting time wondering if your peccadilloes are weird, and just accepting that they are and getting on with life. I even have special, extra-large pink plastic cups that I found at Target. (I picked pink, hoping it would discourage George from using them. It has not.)

Wherever I go in the house, my water goes with me. I carry it from room to room, taking care to frequently freshen the ice. As soon as I’m separated from my cup, I instantly feel like a character in an adventure caper who’s stranded in a desert with a bad-tempered camel and an empty canteen, and who quickly becomes so dehydrated, he starts seeing mirages of waterfalls spilling into cool lakes.

But, hey, I figure that as far as obsessive-compulsive habits go, this one is pretty harmless. Certainly better than being addicted to crack or vodka or having Botox injected in my forehead.

So it’s driving me absolutely insane that Sam will not leave my water cup alone.

At first he just wanted to drink from my cup. I wasn’t thrilled about this – sharing cups with anyone grosses me out, and besides, Sam has a nasty habit of backwashing. But I gamely let him take the odd sip here and there, even though nearly every time Sam rewards me by tipping the entire cup of freezing cold water down him or me or both of us.

But now his new thing is to stick his hands in my cup, and splash the water around. And since I know exactly how much time Sam devotes each day to playing with the toilet – lifting the lid up, putting it down, wiping his hands on the rim – this hand-to-water contact instantly makes the water undrinkable and the cup unusable. I have to stop whatever I’m doing and start the decontamination protocol (or else risk forgetting that his potty hands were in my cup, and end up drinking it after all).

As a parent, I’m willing to put up with a lot. I really don’t mind changing diapers, or getting up in the middle of the night, or that two years after Sam’s birth I still can’t fit into my pre-pregnancy jeans. It’s all part of the gig. I’ve been peed on, and pooped on, and the other day Sam actually picked a booger out of his nose and stuffed it in my mouth. Gross, yes, but I pulled myself together and moved on.

But this water interference is just intolerable. It’s one tiny part of my life that I am just not willing to compromise on, ground I will not cede to him. Some principles are just worth fighting for.

Posted 06 October 2005 at 08:31 PM