ice cream

hands off the ice cream

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Ever since my three-year-old learned what ice cream was, I became a victim. Austin learned early on how to bat his eyes just the right way, flash that mischevious grin, and to use “Please, Momma” in only the most angelic way possible. I was putty in his hands.

My ice cream became his.

By the time Everett entered the mix, both boys had commandeered it all. Not cool, boys. Not cool.

So, for anyone who has been victimized by a preschooler robbing you of all your dessert, I’m about to change your life. Ready?

Take this…

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And, this…

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Insert the pint of ice cream into the Dickey’s cup, and it magically disappears. There still must be subtlety in eating said ice cream in front of the children, but, at least, when they catch you in the act, you don’t have to chunk it across the room, show them your empty hands and pretend you were never eating something in the first place. So very wasteful.

My first test run with the Dickey’s cup quickly caught Austin’s radar. No sooner had I taken my first bite than Austin poked his head from around a corner and demanded to know what I was eating.

“Broccoli,” I told him. “Lots of broccoli.”

He stared at me skeptically for a few seconds as I held my breath. Then, he sighed and carried on his way, not willing to take the chance that I might not be bluffing.

Momma wins. And, then, the next night, I served broccoli with dinner and made the kids eat it. Ouch. Sorry, guys.

Hands off the ice cream.

he’s going to lose them anyway

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Today was the day I had been dreading since my child’s first tooth popped in. A day that maybe should have happened a year and a half ago when I began receiving pamphlet after pamphlet about the importance of good oral hygiene and scheduling the appropriate dentist appointment. No, thank you, I thought. We still have time. Who takes their one year old to the dentist anyway?

I finally bit the bullet a few weeks ago to schedule A’s first dentist appointment because I rationalized stretching it past three years old was maybe a touch too far. I didn’t want those adorable little teeth to fall out for the wrong reasons 🙂

So, the day came. I knew there would be drama. A is sometimes a bit “emotional” (aka a drama queen king) in new situations, especially ones that involve bright lights, lousy tasting toothpaste and sticking foreign instruments in your mouth. Oh, yeah. I was thinking I might rather have a root canal than go through with this one.

The car ride was filled with mixtures of doubt, excitement and loads of questions from A. I knew it was going well when he repeatedly informed me that we were NOT going to the dentist. Bad news, buddy. Now, as soon as we arrived, a miracle occurred… or, my child should be tested for major mood swings… He was thrilled to go inside. He played with the toys, listened to directions, and X-rays? Sure, let’s do those, too. He was a rock star and made it through without a single tear. Amazing… and completely unexpected. So, why do I already feel a knot in my stomach about his appointment in six months??

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Oh, and we may or may not have celebrated no cavities (and no meltdowns) with an ice cream sundae… Oops…

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