I remember sipping from my father’s beer when I was very young.  Extremely young, in fact – it may be one of my earliest memories.  What kept it in my mind was its clandestine nature, as I was, initially, unnoticed in my thievery, and feeling rather good about managing to achieve something that was not allowed.  And I remember needing two hands to hold the stubby, which puts me at around 3, I think.

-20 December 2016

This post is part of the I Remember series.