I was reading an article last night about fathers and sons, and memories came flooding back of the time I took my son out for his first drink.
Off we went to our local bar, which is only two blocks from the house.
I got him a Miller Genuine. He didn't like it – so I drank it.
Then I got him a Fosters, he didn't like it either, so I drank it.
It was the same with the Coors and the Bud.
By the time we got down to the Irish whiskey,
I could hardly push the stroller back home.
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