[Written by Sun-Sentinel Staff Writer Kathy Bushouse]

True story: My husband and I were out to dinner in Boynton Beach last Friday night at a Beer-Brewery-Slash-Restaurant That Shall Not Be Named, and I started chatting with the waitress as she brought my husband his beer and brought me a water and a Coke.

I’m at the point in my pregnancy where I’m really looking like I swallowed a watermelon, so there’s no hiding the Little Dude at this point. I’m either pregnant, or smuggling a soccer ball under my shirt to dinner.

When she set the beer down, I asked for mine. I told her, of course, that I was kidding. Her response: You’d be surprised how many women aren’t. Then I told her she couldn’t be serious. Turns out, she was. She’ll serve wine, she said, but our waitress draws the line at beer and – this part shocked me – shots of liquor.

“What do you say?” I asked her.

“I tell them it’s a personal preference,” she said. If they insist, she sends them to the bar to buy the beer or the shot or the margarita or whatever.

Now, I’ve been known to drink a soda or two, and have been told that the world won’t end if I have a little wine while I’m expecting. But liquor? Really? I mean, I like a good vodka-and-tonic as much as the next person, but can’t that stuff wait until after the baby is born?

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