The thing about the ice cream

Today, I went to a grocery story to load up for the next few days. It wasn’t until I was just about to pull out of the parking lot when I thought I’d better check my phone. I had this nagging feeling I was missing something.

Sure enough, there was a text from the girl child.

Actually, two texts. If I don’t respond to the first one she tracks me down on other venues. This one was from WhatsApp:

My son does this. He doesn’t have WhatsApp but he has Instragram and so do I. If he can’t reach me via the phone text thingy, he messages me on Insta. Or via email. I once got 2 voice mails, 2 emails on two different accounts, 8 chats on Insta and several texts from him when he demanded an immediate answer and I was, for some reason, unavailable.

I’m not often unavailable. I might be for a short time, while I’m driving for instance. But sooner or later, I usually check my phone.

I know, it’s a curse. πŸ™ƒ

Anyway. On my way home I happen to pass another grocery store so I pulled in there and picked up the desired waffles.

They also had a going-out-of-business outlet in that strip mall and I stopped in there quick to see if they had any boots. You know the ones I like, the high-heeled, knee-high black leather boots I don’t get to wear because I don’t leave the house except to go to the market or the rink. πŸ˜‰

ANYWAY I’m trying to tell you something about ice cream. That was my original reason for pulling up the blog.

I bought ice cream at the first store today. This is Penny’s fault, by the way. That would be Penny from Big Bang Theory. Yesterday, she was in a sindicated episode where she was upset and having an argument with Sheldon and she was shoving ice cream in her face and I thought, hm, I’d like to have some ice cream…

I don’t really like ice cream.

But I am a peri-menopaused woman and my hormones dictate to me what cravings I’m supposed to submit to and lo, the Haagen Dazs was on sale so I picked up chocolate dipped ice cream bars on a stick, a vanilla flavour container and also a coffee flavour one.

Sue me.

When I got home I pointed to the bag with the ice cream in it and spoke directly to the two children sitting on the couch.

“You are not, under any circumstances, to eat this ice cream without prior permission from me,” I announced to them. “You require to inform me prior to touching this ice cream.”

Hah.

Fast forward to a million other things going on, and the boys leaving for hockey (which is why I am here now typing in silence, yippie!) and the girl child approaches me and says:

“I am hereby informing you that I am going to eat ice cream.”

And then she did. And so did I. And now I feel sick and she feels cold.

The end.

13 Replies to “The thing about the ice cream”

  1. Don’t be too concerned about a 12 year old who forgets to eat. I know several adults whose experience of hunger does not in any way have a relationship with the actual preparation of food. Go figure. And a cool mom can indulge from time to time–and sneak in the occasional word about health and personal responsibility. (“from time to time” does not = meals on wheels.)

    Liked by 1 person

  2. My new stomach seems to prefer vanilla ice cream. If I get something else, it usually ends badly. I don’t get it often because I have this eating machine named teenager who can devour an entire half gallon of ice cream in an evening and complain there isn’t more while moaning his stomach hurts because he ate too much too fast.

    Liked by 1 person

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