As a young mom in the early 90s, I discovered that one of the hardest parts of parenting was the sheer, constant mess. And there are two universal facts: children love chocolate ice cream, and of all the flavors in the world, none are messier, stickier, or stain deeper than chocolate ice cream. The solution to avoiding the chocolate-covered chaos was simple: no chocolate ice cream. My children, Carl and Amy, were too short to look over the counter to see inside the ice cream cases, which was the key to my master plan.
Whenever we visited the ice cream shop, I would begin an Oscar-worthy performance. I’d check the sign and the cases with a dramatic air of disappointment, announcing: “Nope, they’re all out of chocolate”. My kids, Carl and Amy, would stand on their tiptoes trying to look into the cases. But since they couldn’t read and couldn’t see, I proceeded to guide them toward an alternate, cleaner selection to order. It was a foolproof system until they got older and learned to read.
The system worked for years, until I had an occasional snafu with an over-helpful, young ice cream scooper. These teenagers, who had no firsthand knowledge or experience cleaning up chocolate-soaked children, would try to tell my kids that there was chocolate ice cream. They were always met with a hard glare from me and a severe voice stating: “No, you don’t. You are out of chocolate”. They would quickly apologize and recommend another lighter-shaded flavor. My greatest fear was realized once the kids grew tall enough to look into the case and see the coveted chocolate with their own eyes. Carl and Amy were not forgiven for many years once they discovered that, for the best years of their childhood, they had been chocolate-deprived