Her: Chocolate milk makes me angry. I would be a lot happier if the world were rid of chocolate milk. Most of the time it's gross. Especially the really thick kind. And once my kids get a hold of it, they are more likely to clean their room than eat any supper.
I especially want to know exactly who showed my kids that it was ok to make chocolate milk out of plain white milk and Hershey's syrup. This person's limbs should be fed through a wood chipper. (Editor's Note: I didn't actually say that. That person was probably my husband anyway.) For lunch, I will gladly make peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, cut up blocks of cheese into fancy shapes, and clean and slice fruit. For dinner, I will plan the meals, cook the dinner, set the table, and single-handedly cordon off the area around the stove while the kids clumsily hop around the kitchen in dual laundry hampers. But by the time I pour three glasses of water and launch the impossible mission to find two sippy cups that actually have lids, I hear, from the three-year-old, "Mommy, can you make me some chocolate milk?" I realize it's just one more step, but I've had it up to here by that point. (Holds her hand sideways by her forehead.) And then when the one-year-old sees the chocolate syrup, he recognizes it, and then he wants some in his drink, which unfortunately is apple juice. Though he'd drink live scorpions if he had to, just to get some of that chocolate syrup.
Then there's the issue of what happens when you find the two-week-old cup of old chocolate milk stashed between the entertainment stand and the wall. Yes, it's probably no smellier than white milk stashed between the entertainment stand and the wall, but there seems to be something especially irritating and gross about finding old chocolate milk somewhere. Yuk.
And God forbid that somewhere is the car. Kids are never allowed to carry open containers of chocolate milk in our car because the stank never comes out of the seats
Put simply, chocolate milk is just a disaster waiting to happen.
Me: Yes but it's awesome. Especially the really thick kind...did you just use "stank" as a noun?
I'm sorry, but we're out of time, we'll have to give that one to the wife. We must move to our next subject, the sleep sack.
Me: Yeah, do we have to put that thing on him every night? What does it even do?
Her: It keeps him warm without using blankets that present a risk of suffocation.
Me: Although I have not checked the long-range forecast, you are aware that at some point this summer when the air conditioning busts, the nighttime temperature in our house will be 88 degrees Fahrenheit, don't you?
Her: We may able to just throw him in bed with his jammies that night.
Me: I understand why the thing zips from the top down... it would be annoying to sleep with a zipper piercing your chin all night. But can you explain why every time I zip it, it splits in the middle?
Her: Umm...you're not doing it right.
Me: It's usually a race for me to get that thing on him before he's completely finished his bottle and sobbing and thrashing uncontrollably. Are we sure he couldn't use blankets once, down towards the end, by his feet?
Her: Move. Let me do it. It also helps if you turn the light on.
Me: And he looks like Maggie Simpson!
Her: It's also a deterrent to climbing out of bed. Do you want this daredevil thinking he can climb out of his bed?
Looks like we have a clean sweep in our first installment of Point/Counterpoint, as this point also goes to the wife. I'm afraid that just because you can't properly zip the sack, or get baby's arms in without nearly breaking them in half (even though you're on your third child) that doesn't mean that you can sacrifice safety, Dad. Please re-read the books people got you when your first child was born, and then join us next time for another point/counterpoint.