My children think I might be a vampire.
It all started because I was drinking cranberry juice at dinner.
"What is THAT?" Blayne asked.
"It's BLOOD," DadGuy answered before I even processed the question.
"No it's not Dad. That's gross."
"Yeah it is gross.... But it's blood, because your mom is a vampire."
I sat back, amused, as DadGuy furthered his argument.
"Have you ever seen Mom sleep? SHE DOESN'T. And she doesn't have a reflection in the mirror."
The shortlings eyed me warily.
"Mom, why don't you sleep at the night time?"
DadGuy and I locked eyes, "I don't know. I never really have."
You see, a long time ago, DadGuy and I decided that one of the perks to having children is that you can screw with them to your hearts content, so long as it's not mean. A sense of humor is not born in you, it's developed over time.
"Is that really blood?"
I picked up my glass, and swirled it around. "Do you want to taste it and see?"
Four sets of eyes widened. "Not if it's really real blood!"
"But if you try it, you might like it."
DadGuy shifted in his chair as he delivered his final proof.
"Do you know why Mom drinks Dr. Pepper? It's because it has special medicine in it that makes her not act like a vampire all the time. That's why you can't drink her pop. Because then she'll have to kill you."
That was it, DadGuy was right. I had to be a vampire, and they had to be especially careful around me.
"Is that why when we're bleeding you have clean it up, Mom? Dad doesn't like when we're bleeding, but you don't care."
"Oh no, Dad doesn't clean up when you're bleeding because he's a vampire too, and he might eat you."
My kids: they will be awesome.