When I was a kid, I spent many summers at my grandmother's place in Vermont. My sister and I would swim in the pool, we'd watch Nickelodeon and we eat Eagle Thins potato chips, bon bons and Ben and Jerry's ice cream...it was great.
During one of these visits, my mum sent me to the downstairs fridge for some juice. There wasn't any upstairs so she said "there is a plastic jug full of grape juice in the fridge downstairs". So, I took my glass down and poured myself some juice. I had some of it, decided I didn't like the taste of it and told my mum. As I had a history of picky eating, she just told me to drink my juice and stop complaining. So, I finished the nasty juice and for some reason decided to have some more. Still complaining about the taste, my mum finally said "here, let me try it". A funny look then came over her face.
As it turns out, it was red wine.
So, this story made me laugh a bit (not that I find drunk and puking babies funny...). I'm guessing the margarita mix will be labelled a little better from now on.
(now the real question: why did my grandmother have plastic jugs of wine in her fridge...hmmmm)