J: Mommy, I want a glass of wine.
Me: (Thinking quickly...) Uh, wine is only for grown-ups.
J: When I grow up, I want to have a glass of wine.
In 1982, when I was eight or so, my dad and my stepmom were quite young and spry at the ages of 30 and 26 respectively, and they were out-and-about on the town with their friends on the weekends my brother and I were not at their house. I continually asked them to recount their adventures to me in detail, fascinated as I was with the lure of bars, clubs, dancing, bands and the grown-up world of "going out". (I was also fascinated with my roller skates, leg warmers and the soundtrack for Flashdance, if that helps to complete the 80s picture I'm trying to paint here.) After each (surely heavily-edited) story they related to me about their "going-out" experiences, I would wistfully reply, "I can't wait until I'm grown-up so I can go to a bar."
I'm sure my parents exchanged equally appalled glances with each other - as I did with B when J said this to us. And I'm sure they - as I also did - hoped for more ambitious aspirations from their child than a desire to imbibe.
I turned out okay in the end - mostly. So I guess J is allowed to have his dreams as well.