This Week's Ice Cream Related Post
We had a rough evening last night. I mowed a lawn that was a few inches high, reaching a height known technically as “mosquito ambrosia.” Ellie worked hard cleaning some of the mess we created moving our mess from one home to another. The kids did what they always do, running, screaming, and pushing, but they did it with an extra zeal while their parents were busy mowing and cleaning.
We packed it in at 8pm (central), for that’s when American Idol started. Ellie is hooked on the show and must watch the entire hour of the results show, because even though they never reveal who’s going home until at least the last five minutes, they could drop some hints earlier in the show. Plus, she likes Maroon 5. I came inside from yard work more because of the waning daylight than because of the television. I’m ambivalent toward the show even though one of the finalists is the daughter of former NFL player Phillipi Sparks, and nothing with such a direct connection to football could be all bad.
After everyone worked hard at their jobs, it seemed the perfect time to go out for ice cream. We were tired, we’d burned off calories, and a massive amount of creamy sugar could be just the thing we need to calm our screaming children. However, Ellie’s show was on, and she was firmly planted in front of the television until 9pm (central). She had missed last week’s results show, possibly because we were getting ice cream, and she was not going to miss this show. Then I noticed our children running up and down the hall, and realized that it could be a bad idea to take them to an ice cream shop where they could have to wait in line for several minutes while other customers taunt them with the ice cream they already purchased.
My solution was to run to the shop by myself and return with ice cream, ideally before the announcement of the finalists or the meltdown of the children. The shop is less than two miles away, close enough for a non-breeder to walk, but I drove so I could return before the kids’ shrieks could drown out Ellie’s show. Plus, I feel it’s my duty as a new suburbanite to drive everywhere, including to our mailbox clear at the end of the driveway.
Before the second commercial break, I returned with two mostly-uneaten treats in hand: a sundae for me, and a Blitz* for Ellie. Notice I didn’t bring anything for the kids. That’s because they always make sure they find a way to get their fair share when ice cream is involved. Indeed, they barely noticed I was gone, but they certainly noticed when I returned, swarming my chair with mouths open before I could sit.
We doled out spoonfuls to the kids and ourselves at close to a 1:1:1:1:1 ratio. Tory mostly clung to my sundae, Ian stood next to Ellie’s Blitz, and Abbie bounced between us looking for variety. Tory is the greedy eater in our family, growing very angry if he realizes that his mouth had something tasty in it a second ago but is now empty. I eventually tired of him screaming and clawing at my leg every time I lifted the spoon to my mouth, and set down my sundae. After his tantrum passed, he noticed Ian was eating, and started competing for spoon time with him.
After finishing the ice cream, I gave the kids their bedtime milk. Much to Ellie’s surprise and doubtlessly the kids’ disappointment, I didn’t consider ice cream a suitable substitute for milk. We saw the final two contestants as they ate. The NFL player’s daughter made it through, so I have reason to take a passing interest in the show next week, too.
* A Blitz has candy pieces mixed into soft-serve in a way that’s completely different from a Blizzard just in case any copyright lawyers are trolling.
We packed it in at 8pm (central), for that’s when American Idol started. Ellie is hooked on the show and must watch the entire hour of the results show, because even though they never reveal who’s going home until at least the last five minutes, they could drop some hints earlier in the show. Plus, she likes Maroon 5. I came inside from yard work more because of the waning daylight than because of the television. I’m ambivalent toward the show even though one of the finalists is the daughter of former NFL player Phillipi Sparks, and nothing with such a direct connection to football could be all bad.
After everyone worked hard at their jobs, it seemed the perfect time to go out for ice cream. We were tired, we’d burned off calories, and a massive amount of creamy sugar could be just the thing we need to calm our screaming children. However, Ellie’s show was on, and she was firmly planted in front of the television until 9pm (central). She had missed last week’s results show, possibly because we were getting ice cream, and she was not going to miss this show. Then I noticed our children running up and down the hall, and realized that it could be a bad idea to take them to an ice cream shop where they could have to wait in line for several minutes while other customers taunt them with the ice cream they already purchased.
My solution was to run to the shop by myself and return with ice cream, ideally before the announcement of the finalists or the meltdown of the children. The shop is less than two miles away, close enough for a non-breeder to walk, but I drove so I could return before the kids’ shrieks could drown out Ellie’s show. Plus, I feel it’s my duty as a new suburbanite to drive everywhere, including to our mailbox clear at the end of the driveway.
Before the second commercial break, I returned with two mostly-uneaten treats in hand: a sundae for me, and a Blitz* for Ellie. Notice I didn’t bring anything for the kids. That’s because they always make sure they find a way to get their fair share when ice cream is involved. Indeed, they barely noticed I was gone, but they certainly noticed when I returned, swarming my chair with mouths open before I could sit.
We doled out spoonfuls to the kids and ourselves at close to a 1:1:1:1:1 ratio. Tory mostly clung to my sundae, Ian stood next to Ellie’s Blitz, and Abbie bounced between us looking for variety. Tory is the greedy eater in our family, growing very angry if he realizes that his mouth had something tasty in it a second ago but is now empty. I eventually tired of him screaming and clawing at my leg every time I lifted the spoon to my mouth, and set down my sundae. After his tantrum passed, he noticed Ian was eating, and started competing for spoon time with him.
After finishing the ice cream, I gave the kids their bedtime milk. Much to Ellie’s surprise and doubtlessly the kids’ disappointment, I didn’t consider ice cream a suitable substitute for milk. We saw the final two contestants as they ate. The NFL player’s daughter made it through, so I have reason to take a passing interest in the show next week, too.
* A Blitz has candy pieces mixed into soft-serve in a way that’s completely different from a Blizzard just in case any copyright lawyers are trolling.
posted by Matt at
11:35 PM
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