Backstory: My mom suggested I get my dad a beer making kit for Christmas

Me: I got the kit, it’s pretty easy. Comes with different beer mixes and the equipment. You mix it up, put it in the plastic keg for a week, then pour it into these big plastic bottles they give you and let it sit another week. Done.
Mom: So in 2 weeks, we’ll have crap beer. Great. You know he’s going to make me drink it and I’ll have to pretend I like it.
Me: No you don’t. Don’t drink it if you don’t like it. But there’s a Pale Ale mix and I know you like that.
Mom: I’m not going to let him drink it all himself! As it is, he barely leaves his chair. If he’s all boozed up, he’ll just meld with it and I’ll be stuck trying to peel him off the leather. I’m 65, I’m too old for that crap.
Mom: Maybe you shouldn’t get him the kit after all.
Me: Too late, Amazon’s already shipped it.
Mom: Well, then you’re responsible for what might happen. There’s no telling.
Me: You’re the one who told me to get it for him!
Mom: Well, damn.