With its pleasant aroma, light tannins, and crisp watermelon, this delightful rosé is perfect for any summer night. Enjoy with leftover mac and cheese, by yourself, after cleaning ketchup off your toddler’s toothbrush. Now clean up his vomit.
At the core of this dynamic Pinot Noir are notes of caramel and licorice, which effortlessly carry the French oak to a complex finish. Pair with a one-minute shower and four-minute nap to briefly ward off your emotional breakdown.
This fruit-forward Zinfandel boasts a savory mingling of blackberry and cinnamon, pairing perfectly with rejected vegetables and your sore feet. The childless couple next door goes out twice a week, owns a Tesla, and will never know the pungent odor of diaper trash.
The tart tannins in this bold Tempranillo pave the way for dried fig and dill, culminating in a long steady finish that’s full of life. You were full of life once. It was all ahead of you then. What happened? Oh right, you bred, bought a house, and have no money.
This delightful Cabernet Sauvignon is a perfect balance of cedar and tobacco that truly goes the distance. Remember when Brett joked about your sex life and said the only “steamy action” in your house was dishes and laundry? That was hilarious. Have you seen Brett’s Hawaii pics? He’s incredibly ripped and way tanner than you.
A crimson jewel in a glass, this silky Malbec is vibrant with red plum and boasts a delicate chocolate finale. By the way, congratulations on the birth of your second child, she’s genuinely sweet with notes of maple syrup and cinnamon applesauce. And, we don’t mean this in a judgmental way, but everyone agrees you were barely holding it together with one kid, so best of luck.
Paw Patrol! Paw Patrol! Whenever You’re In Trouble! Does it even matter what this mediocre Chardonnay tastes like? Paw Patrol! Paw Patrol! We’ll Be There On The Double! [Barking SFX].
Gas Station, 2019
This bottle of gas station gutter water cost three dollars and tastes like telephone pole. But you’ll drink it with a sweaty desperation, because after four toddler birthday parties, two pediatric appointments for pink eye, and then another to remove popcorn from your toddler’s nose, you can no longer feel anything, let alone taste anything. You are a clichéd blend of personal, parental, and marital failings that test your already slippery grasp of healthy functioning adulthood. Stop blaming your mother, make a quesadilla, and pretend this night never happened.
Hear that? Sweet silence. It’s 10 p.m. and the toddler is finally asleep, time to indulge in this elegant Merlot, a perfect blend of black cherry — GODDAMNIT THE BABY IS AWAKE.