Mrs. F., the daughter's 2nd grade teacher: "Well, we know what you did on your summer vacation!"
I look at her, puzzled.
Mrs. F.: "L. asked me how to spell 'winery.'"
It's true. Our children have visited wineries. We check to make sure they are kid-friendly, and not crowded, and because our two tend to be well-behaved, they have always been welcome.
(No, they don't get to drink wine, not even watered down.)
We just consider it a part of their education. They have to behave nicely, and they get to hear a little about how wine is made, and they get to talk to interesting people. So far, it's always been a win-win situation.
Tonight we opened a bottle from the particular winery that we visited the summer between the daughter's first and second grade years, and though the wine was eight years old, it had turned golden and had mellowed considerably with age. It was bursting with fruit, a perfect complement to the tandoori chicken I made for dinner (which really wasn't tandoori because I don't have a tandoor. It was marinated in tandoori paste and grilled) and a nice foil to a very warm day. Over chicken and rice and salad, eaten al fresco, the kids laughed about eating all the chocolate rocks they could stuff themselves with that long ago afternoon as we'd meandered down from San Francisco, and how we'd avoided the geese at the winery's picnic area.
While we ate and drank and laughed, three generations enjoying our meal, the birds flew through the yard and the cat mewed plaintively on the other side of the screen, hoping for his share of chicken.
Sweet wine, and a sweet end to a not-so-pleasant day.
Go listen to some good music: "Sweet Wine" from the album The Very Best of Cream by Cream.