Mommy is going away for a while, kids.

I was on the phone with the Husband the other night, when he was working late, and as I was listening to his work stories, I stared into the beverage refrigerator. Since it's been quite freaking hot around here lately, a nice cold refreshing beer was all I saw amongst the choices.

Oh what the heck, I am totally entitled to drink a beer every once in a while, even if it means I am alone and watching three rambunctious kids, right?

So I grab one and crack it open.

Mike stops mid-sentence. His beer radar went off and he says, "Did you just open a beer?" "Um, yeah," I responded, "So?"

"But you're watching the kids. And you're alone. If you drink alone, then you must be an alcoholic." Jokingly, I said, "Well, if you were home alone watching these kids, you would, too! They drive me to drink!"

After we get off the phone, I hear crying. Nothing new. But the crying continued for a good two minutes, which means it's real.

I start searching for the crying, and find Brandon alone in his room, on the bed, with the door shut, crying into his pillow.

Me: "Brandon? What's wrong?"

Brandon: [In between sobs...] "I'm saaaa-aaad."

Me: "Why, buddy, what's making you sad?"

Brandon: "Because I don't want you to go away."

Me: [Getting a little excited, because going away sounded kinda like fun and maybe he knew a secret vacation coming up that I didn't.] "Who said I was going away?"

Brandon: "You did! You told dad that you were driving to drink! I don't want you to go to drink! Then you'll be gone a long, long time!"