Boogers on the Wall

We made such a mess at the ice cream parlor last week that I don’t know if my husband will ever take us back.

We let the boys choose their own flavors. Of course my oldest chose the brightest blue cotton candy ice cream I have ever seen. To top it off, he decided to get gumballs mixed in.

My first instinct was to change his mind. But then I remembered all the times my older sister and I ordered pink bubblegum ice cream from Baskin Robbins and the hours it took us to eat it because we would spit the fluorescent pink square-shaped gum cubes into a napkin. That way we could eat them later.

Maybe he would like doing that too.

Before I had even taken a lick of my own chocolate Reese’s cone I turned to see his chin dripping with bright blue goo as he struggled to eat both the gumballs and the ice cream.

He was torn.

I taught him the napkin trick but that only made it worse. I sat across from him, and watched him regurgitate diced up gumballs onto a napkin while leaning over and dipping his shirtsleeve deep into his ice cream bowl each time. He was a mess.

But all I could do was laugh. That made matters worse — for me.

The next thing I knew the bottom of my waffle cone had sprung a leak and I was dripping chocolate all the way down my front. I couldn’t even see past my pregnant belly to know where the drips were.

Once again I started laughing.  I snorted all over and spilled even worse than either of my boys. I had ice cream coming out my nose and mouth.

My husband had to bail me out with a big fist full of napkins.

A few more blue and chocolate shirt stains and a dozen napkins later, my 5-year-old and I were finally done.

I am sure my husband was relieved. I eat ice cream a lot, but I have never had a meltdown like that at the local parlor.  We made a big mess.

But I can’t wait to go again.