Ever since our daughter has been able to talk, when she’s asked what kind of ice cream she wants, it has always been the same, “vanilla!”. Put chocolate sauce on top and she’s in Heaven.
Still, it didn’t take us long to realize that she never ate very much. So we stopped asking and resorted to sharing a little of our own with her - my wife’s mint chocolate chip and, occasionally, my mocha chip. It wasn’t her good ol’ vanilla, but she was happy. And, again, she never ate a ton.
We took our Sweetie out for ice cream today. My wife changed gears and got a thick chocolate frappe. Considering Sweetie’s love for chocolate smoothies, we thought she would be thrilled with the choice.
Our daughter did admit that the frappe was “yummy”, but she was much more interested in what I brought to the (picnic) table. She climbed up to my side of the bench and sat next to me to more easily share my mocha chip waffle cone. Sure, a few licks - no problem! (The “Daddy’s Little Girl” shirt helped a little)
However, in a matter of minutes she had inched closer, and in no time I found myself looking at the back of her head. The little mooch was between me and my ice cream! Yes the plan was to share, but never has she had so much.
“Do you like Daddy’s ice cream, Sweetie?”
“Yeah. It’s yummy yummy yummy!”
Three “yummy”’s to Mommy’s one. Houston, we have a convert.
Next time, I’m getting a large.
