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©Copyright 2009-2012 Out Of The Blue.
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Published: April 10, 2012
I Dare You
Out Of The Blue  ootb646.com
Nothing strikes more fear in the cocktail-loving mommy’s
heart than the D.A.R.E program at school. If you aren’t
familiar with this program, it teaches school age children the
dangers of drugs, alcohol and tobacco. And it’s taught by the
local sheriff.  Being raised by my staunchly Catholic
Grandma, I’m askeered of the police more than anything else.
I don’t even have to be breaking any law, but if I see a cop I’ll
stop dead in my tracks, which probably makes me look more
guilty than I actually am.

My D.A.R.E. fears are not unfounded either. When my oldest
was in elementary school, some dude named Retro Bill came
to school to spread the D.A.R.E message. Later that evening,
he was at the Wal-Marts signing autographs and Jr. No. 1
wanted to go. The line was ridiculously long and Jr. No. 2 stated he was tired of waiting and why did Jr.
No. 1 want Retro Bill’s autograph because we didn’t know any one who used drugs anyway. That’s
when Jr. No. says very loudly, “Yes, we do! Our mother is a drug addict!” That was the only time it’s
ever been quiet enough to hear a lude drop in the Wal-Marts. I had to shop at K-Mart for months after
that. By the way, I’m not a drug addict, no thanks to my four kids. And after that encounter I had to
explain how not all drugs are bad and some people need them for high blood pressure, which I
undoubtedly now had thanks to that whole encounter. And what kind of anti-drug program hires a
spokesman who looks like a cross between Elvis and Pee Wee Herman—on crack?

So, when the twins announced they had to write papers for their upcoming D.A.R.E. graduation, I
became a little nervous. I could just see my darling babies standing in front of their classes and the
grumpy sheriff announcing how their mommy is a drug addict because she likes to have the (occasional
—yes occasional, don’t you judge me!) cocktail. I was pretty relieved after reading Jr. No. 3’s report to
find no mention of me. But I forgot to read Mini-Me’s report. So there I was on a Tuesday morning after
the bus left, fretting about what her report said. I almost had to put some Bailey’s in my coffee to quell
the anxiety because I don’t have a prescription for any anti-anxiety drugs.

I’m happy to report that neither of the twins ratted me out. They stuck with the guidelines in their D.A.R.E
booklets and I was safe from the scrutiny of 100 fifth graders, their teacher, and the sheriff. They did so
well, that both of them were voted best in their class and were chosen to read their speeches in front of
the whole fifth grade at the D.A.R.E graduation.

Later that night, I caught one of the twins sniffing the ink on the freshly pressed D.A.R.E T-shirt.  I don’t
know whether the genius who ordered the T-shirts ever gave this a thought or if they’re just too busy
busting out all of us drinking parents to cover sniffing ink. Either way, I dare those idiots to ever say
anything to me about my occasional cocktails…