Just say "it's diet."

For some reason still not yet within my grasp, our lot o' 7 has a deep-seeded dislike of diet anything. Maybe because they equate diet drinks with old people who, for the most part, are consuming the stuff. Maybe they equate it with our fluffier pals who, for the most part, kinda need of the stuff. Maybe they simply equate it with grossness. Any answer will work because I love Diet Coke and it's slightly sweeter cousin, Diet Dr. Pepper. They are my coffee. Every morning. And then scattered throughout the day. You may well call it an addiction. But, hey, it's better than crack, right? Or cigarettes. Say no to drugs, kids. D.A.R.E. to be different.

This dislike of diet works great with the kids not taking our drinks at Mickey D's, or here at the house. They ask, "Is this diet?" and we always say, "Yep." It's pretty awesome. Equally as awesome is when we decide to have an adult beverage - which is totally allowed my fellow role models, even around the kiddos in moderation - they look at us with our frosty bevies and give us the eye like "whatchoo doin'?"

"Is that diet?" they query.
"Yep, this here is diet," we gladly retort.
"Oh."

So now Diet Coke and beer and margaritas and other sinful delicacies are ALL diet, thus unappealing to the kiddos and not something they look forward to trying out. Because we all know, diets are for old, fluffy people like us, not them. Never them.

By the by, yes, in my new profile pic that is a healthy-looking margarita A and I are sharing at the celebration of my 32nd year on this planet last May. See, role models know how to party AND raise the youngins up right. I think they call that ambidextrous.