About a month ago, after I thought the kids were asleep upstairs in their rooms, dear husband and I were talking in the living room about politics and history. Something in the discussion triggered a memory of a passage in a book I once read about the American Revolution – unfortunately, I don’t remember which book the passage was from, so I can’t share it.
Anyway….the author speculated that maybe the colonists habit of meeting in taverns, where they drank liquor, may have emboldened some of them to confront the British soldiers who were hanging around. In particular, the author was referring to the Boston Tea Party and the Boston Massacre. The author’s argument was a little more thought out than that, and my husband and I were having a pretty involved and interesting discussion, but the tavern and drinking is what is important to my story, so I’ll spare you the rest.
“So,” I oversimplified, “I guess they were saying that some drunk guys walked out of a bar and threw some rocks and snowballs at the British soldiers, and a revolution was born.”
In walks my 10 year old with a goofy grin on his face. “Mom, I can’t sleep. Can I get a glass or water?”
He gets his water and I send him back up to bed.
Fast forward a few weeks…..dear son’s class is studying the Boston Massacre. Knowing he had some inside information, he raised his hand to share with the class. When the teacher called on him he blurted out, “My mom said that some drunk guys were coming out of a tavern and that’s why they threw the rocks and snowballs at the soldiers.” The class erupted into laughter, my son beamed with pride, and the poor teacher was lead down an unforeseen tangent about how drinking too much makes us do things we might not normally do.
When he came home and told me what he said, my first instinct was to call the teacher and try and explain that I didn’t really say that; there was more to the conversation and my son just overheard the tail-end of it. Instead, I just giggled and let it go. Knowing his teacher, he’s probably giggling too.