The third ingredient

Never ask a 5-year-old to tell you what is in his “secret recipe”. Really? Have you learned nothing from me in the last 4 months??

Jack and I were sitting in the kitchen finishing up our ice cream. Jack’s leftovers had turned to a swimmy, milky mess, consisting of melted ice cream and whipped cream. He was in heaven and was stirring it lovingly, as he created his masterpiece “Ice Cream Milk”. Ew. Just the name is enough to get to me.

Jack: Oh it’s almost ready! (stir-stir)
me: What are you doing over there?
Jack: Finishing my recipe! (he peers down for a close look and stirs some more)
me: How about you eat that or get a straw?

I cringe. I have a milk-phobia of sorts, which will not allow me to a) share a cup of milk with anyone, b) dunk cookies in milk and then (gag) drink the milk, c) finish the milk left over in my cereal bowl (GAG), or d) watch a 5-year-old stir his milky “Ice Cream Milk”.

Jack: Noooo, I’m finishing up the recipe. (he leans way down to check out his work, and samples a small “sip”. My gag reflex is set to “high”)
me: Looks yummy. (said without even a glance in Jack’s direction)
Jack: Do you want to know what my three ingredients are?
me: (??) What do you mean…three??
Jack: The first is ice cream.
me: Yeahhhhh?
Jack: The second is whipped cream.
me: Uh huh?
Jack: (said with a grin) The third is SPIT!!
me: OH NO Jack, NOOOoooo. (I lunge for his bowl and grab it, gagging)
Jack: Nooooo, it’s almost perfect!!
me: (dash to the sink and rinse it all away) Sorry, but when one of your ingredients is “spit”, then the whole thing is garbage. Not cool Jack.
Jack: Awwww, it had just gotten to the perfect liquid!
me: (dry heave)

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