I've started drinking a cup of coffee at breakfast every morning, and I don't like it. I don't do caffeine. I did caffeine in college, but that had more to do with its ready availability than anything else. I had a Nalgene bottle full of diet Coke and I wasn't afraid to whip it out in class and partake. At nine in the morning. But I did a lot of things in college that I'm not so proud of.
Now, I generally stay away from any and all things caffeinated. I don't cast any aspersions on those who fall into the "don't talk to me until I've had my coffee" camp; I just try not to do it that way. I resent being addicted. It angers me to realize that I need a substance to get going in the morning, or wind down at night. When the occasional glass of wine before bed became a glass every night, and then a bigger and bigger glass, I stopped buying wine. Maybe with all that elementary school-aged indoctrination, I internalized the "Just Say No" campaign a little too deeply. Maybe seeking chemical assistance goes against my desire to do everything myself. I don't know. But what started as a little "medicinal caffeine" at my mother's urging (I think she was tired of hearing me say I was wiped out before ten AM) has turned into a coffee habit. And I need to quit. If not for myself, for my son.
Westley has started to take an interest in the steaming mug that accompanies us during breakfast. Yesterday, after I took my last sip and set the mug down, Westley lunged for it. I held the mug for him to see, and immediately he put his face in it. This morning, he did the same thing, but also tipped the mug up towards himself, as though to drink out of it. He pulled away, smacked his lips and smiled. "Mmm!"
I couldn't believe it. "No, dude. Not 'mmm'." Coffee is bad-tasting before you learn to like it. At very least, it's supposed to be when you're a baby. But I guess my son's crazy taste buds have sealed the deal.
I'm officially off caffeine again.