I couldn't possibly make this sh*t up.

Posts tagged “ice cream

The cost of doing business

 

Jack: Sheesh, we’re the only customers!

me: No, look. That family is here too.

Jack: So you’re saying that WE are the ONLY people keeping them in business??

me: Right now yes. But I’m sure people were in and out all day. Right?

Jack: I never see anyone in and out all day.

me: You’re in camp all day.

Jack: Oh yeah.

me: I hope they do well.

Jack: We’re here EVERY single DAY! They should be doing great!

me: We spend $7.00. I doubt that pays the bills.

Jack: So stop ordering a small cup and go for the big waffle cone next time whydontcha?

me: Ugh, too many calories.

Jack: Get the low fat kind!

me: Ugh…

 

(yes it’s the new ice cream place that we found on the way home from camp)

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How fat are we? (Jack screams for ice cream)

Pretty fat. Should I speak for myself? Maybe.

We’ve been eating a LOT of ice cream in the last month. Like every day just about. I gained 7 pounds REAL easy, and now I’m stopping the madness and hopefully it will drop off me overnight. Hahahaha!

Jack: (eating a cup of chocolate/vanilla twist ice cream covered in chocolate chips and sprinkles) Ahhhh, this is the life. Can I try yours? Is it safe??

me: (trying to hog my black raspberry cone with chocolate sprinkles) Really? You have a BIG bowl all to yourself.

Jack: (Bambi eyes). Please?? I’m your only son! And you’re too old to have more babies right?

me: Nice. Here try. No tree nuts. I promise.

Jack: Oh that is SO good. No wonder you get it every day.

me: And thanks for the reminder. Ugh. (but it’s sooo good)

Jack: (panic sets in) Oh OHHHH!!!

me: What??!! Does your throat itch? WHAT??

Jack: (tearing up) I wanted to, to, to order a m-m-milkshaaaaaake!  WAAAAHHHHHH!

me: Really? Right here in the ice cream place you’re gonna have a fit? Jack come on. You have a nice cup of your favorite ice cream.

Jack: Return this!!! (he shoves his almost-gone bowl of ice cream at me)

me: No way! You ordered it and ate it. We can get a milkshake tomorrow. (and another cone for me. UGHHHH!)

Jack: I want it NOW!!!

me: And, we’re done. Let’s go. You can get it tomorrow I said. You can’t return eaten ice cream. Sheesh.

Jack: You won’t remember tomorrow!

me: Yes I will.

 

(tomorrow… which is today)

 

Jack: I’m ready for my milkshake!

me: Uh, I’m not feeling very well and I need to go home. I can make you one at home.

Jack: YOUR MILKSHAKES STINK!

me: Heyyy, calm down. You never even HAD a milkshake of mine. What the heck are you talking about.

Jack: Yes I did. Last week. And it stunk.

(sidebar: I think the last time I used the blender was last year, for smoothies, sigh)

me: Now you’re not telling the truth. Think about that.

Jack: (pitches a holy fit)

me: And guess what, now there’s no milkshakes at all.

Jack: (GASP!) But why?? Yours are SOOOO Good! I was only kidding!! WAAAAHHHH

 

See how my week has been going? Plus I still have those 7 extra pounds. School starts in a few weeks. Ahhhhh! Now I know why they play that happy Staples commercial with the Dad dancing through the store buying supplies for his kids. Starting to totally get that one.

 

 


How much sugar is too much?

 

When Jack eats ice cream, I can set my watch by the sugar buzz whizzing into his brain. 10 minutes. Not 9. Not 11. He gets goofy. Then has the urge to run. Then he gets spastic and generally hurts himself or me by trying to wrestle or generally tickle torture me to death.

What happens when you top a big bowl of ice cream with jelly belly jelly beans? (First of all…gross!) Why the heck did I even want an answer to THAT question? Sheesh.

 

 

Let’s just say that the sugar buzz lasted all the way to bed time. Good job MOM!

 

Jack: I’m having nightmares!

me: You just climbed into bed, that’s impossible.

Jack: No, really! It’s impossible to go to sleep with these nightmares. Really!

me: I think the sugar is still in your system making you hyper. Just try to relax okay?

Jack: It’s still a nightmare.

me: I think you technically have to be asleep to even have a nightmare.

Jack: Yeah, well when they’re really bad they start when you’re awake!

 

(no more sugar within 5 hours of bedtime…)

Mom Notes: BTW, Jack is absolutely filthy from being at camp all day. Sort of the dazed homeless look. He’s also trying to “grow my hair long so it swoops over one eye”, hence the street urchin hair style. He cleans up pretty well though… 🙂

 


All this between two breaths

(Breathe in… Hold…)

Jack: Mom, Mom… This was the best part of the movie when Gru says Mom look I made a macaroni rocket, and the mom looks at it and says EH! then he gets sad and then it’s when he’s older now and he says to his mom, LOOK I made a REAL rocket from the macaroni prototype and then it goes VRRRMMMM up to the sky and she looks up and says OHHH… and then goes EH! like she doesn’t care, so I’m not sure why she always does that but it’s SOOOO funny but don’t do EH to me when I do amazing things okay?

(Exhale)

me: Eh.

 

(P.S. We stopped for ice cream tonight…I almost didn’t survive.)


Eating ice cream cone = Cardio

I have never been one to take eating an ice cream cone lightly. Once you’re in, you’re in. You have to commit entirely. It’s like a 10-15 minute relationship, depending on the size of the cone and the voraciousness of your appetite, multiplied by the temperature outside and who you’re with. These are all factors in your total ice cream eating experience.

If it’s sweltering hot out, you have to step your game up a notch and catch all the drips, turning the cone frantically, never pausing for fear of a major leak that could take down the entire structure. I hear drill sergeant voices in my head…”Turn”! “Pivot”! “Eat”! “LICK Goddamn it”!!! It’s almost too much pressure. Almost. And if you’re with people that like to have long lengthy conversations while eating a cone, well then, that’s a whole other thing altogether. I hold up the “one minute” finger as I massacre my cone. Yeah the finger stays up until I’m done. I don’t care who’s waiting for me to answer them. They shouldn’t have invited me for ice cream if they’re offended.

I also have this … shall we call it a “milk” thing. I will not share milk or ice cream or creamy desserts with ANYone, unless I carefully divide them ahead of time. I don’t drink my cereal milk. Ever. I don’t dunk cookies. I tried, and yes it tasted good, but the dry heaves took all the pleasure out of that. You can understand, right? (Just imagine how I felt when this happened…)

Now take ALL that “fun”, and try and teach it to a 6-year-old, or younger, whatever the case may be. I almost need to go home and sedate myself after we’re finished with a trip to Dairy Queen.

me: Do you want it in a cup?

Jack: No, definitely a cone.

me: (mild panic) But then it drips all down your wrists, and you get all sticky, so…

Jack: Cone.

me: Sigh. Okay.

Jack: Oh I love the twisty ice cream!

me: Let’s go outside to eat it.

Jack: It’s so HOT out.

me: Actually, maybe we should eat inside? (I look longingly back into the frigid interior) It will melt too quickly out here.

Jack: No!! I’ll eat it REAL fast.

me: I hope so. Oh, hey it’s dripping back there. You have to turn Jack.

Jack: I AM turning. Sheesh.

me: No, here…turn it again. LICK! It’s getting all down your hand. (gag)

Jack: (trying frantically to keep up with my instructions) Hey, guess what, after we finish the ice cream we should —

me: (full panic) NO talking, just catch the drips! Don’t mash down the top with your mouth. Why are you biting the bottom off your cone!!??

Jack: So I can suck out the ice cream.

me: That’s what you do with a pointy cone, these just cave in. Sigh…

Jack: Oh, uh oh! It just caved in. (he starts shoveling pieces in his mouth and licking his hands)

me: (feeling faint) Okay okay, here just eat that and take these napkins.

Jack: (mouth entirely full) Ah thuhnk I gaht dum in ma eye!

me: Why is it in your eye! OH for Pete’s sake. Let’s go back in and wash you up.

 

Back inside it’s 50 degrees cooler, the kids all have cones that are still frozen and they’re eating them nicely while their parents talk to each other. Like humans. I’m covered in the remnants of chocolate/vanilla sludge with bits of cone stuck to my wrists and there’s a huge drip down my HELLOOOO expensive purse!

I’m more of a cookie person.