My first experience with beer was through my dad, who’d drink cans of Labatt Blue on the weekends. Usually, he’d be watching football, and if memory serves, would always be shirtless and sweaty from having just mowed the lawn.
Anyway, when my dad was done with one can of beer, he’d always say to me, “Go get me a beer.”
“Why do I have to do it?” I’d complain.
“What do you think I had you for?” he’d always reply. This exchange played out countless times throughout my childhood. He thought he was being funny (and I guess he was) but I found it annoying. I got him back later though, by stealing that Blue in high school.
I’m taking some time off to be a full-time father. (Don’t worry, The Growler’s not going anywhere.) It’s during this time that I will teach my infant daughter how to fetch me beer, but without ever letting her complain or question why. This will be my contribution to the evolution of our species.
Please wish me luck.
