Mean, Green, Ice Cream Machine

When the grand kids visit, Bill and I make them help by doing little things.  They have to take their plates into the kitchen when they’re done eating dinner.  Why, you might ask, aren’t they eating in the kitchen in the first place?  Because, I would remind you, Mom insists on eating dinner in front of the TV in order to watch the 6:00 news and Wheel of Fortune.  Our grand-daughter, Amber, our soon to be 9 year old grand daughter, loves Wheel of Fortune, so this is a plus.  Jack, our 6 year-old grandson thinks it’s stupid and Pat Sajak is ‘creepy’ so he usually wolfs down his meal and escapes into the family room and the Play Station.  But I’m rambling.

Other little chores we have them do is take Mom’s dinner plate to her, bring it back to the kitchen, and deliver her nightly bowl of Mint Chocolate Chip ice cream.  Because this is what Mom has – every single night – after dinner.  Even if we go out to eat, when we get home, she has to have her bowl of Mint Chocolate Chip ice cream.  One time, we bought a brand that didn’t dye the ice cream green.  It was a name-brand and quite good when I tasted a blob that had fallen off the ice cream scoop onto the counter.  But, until the half gallon was depleted of its treat, she continued to insist every night when I took the empty bowl away, that it was vanilla ice cream because it was white!  Anyway, I’m rambling again.

During the kids last visit, it was Jack’s turn to take Granny her ice cream.  As he handed it to her he commented “Granny, that’s my favorite kind.  Except the triple chocolate blizzard, which is awesome.”  And then he left to wash up since we were taking them to Dairy Queen for awsome blizzards.  Like any six-year-old, Jack’s hand washing consists of a pass-through under the faucet, a quick hand shake, and a high-five pat on the towel.  All-in-all, a 23 second ritual.  Amber on the other hand, washes daintily, dries thoroughly, brushes her hair, tries on a couple of hair scrunchies, picks out a pair of colorful wrist bangles and changes her  clothes because what she had on didn’t match the bangles.  This take about 20 minutes.

While we were waiting for Amber, Jack came back through the living room on his way to the PS3 when he passed by Granny, who apparently was scraping the last remaining chocolate bits from her now empty bowl.

“Boy, Granny,” Jack said.  “You must really like that ice cream because you ate it all really fast.  My mom yells at me when I eat too fast.  She says my tummy won’t know I’m full and it’ll make me fat.  I guess that’s what happened to you.”  And then he smiled sweetly as he took the bowl and headed to the kitchen.

She looked at me quizzically and mouthed ‘fat?’ to which I shook my head.

“Mom,” I said, trying to think of a appeasing response.  “You just look spread out when you’re sitting.  It’s the curse of the Carpenter hip.”

“Well, I’m certainly not like those women on the Price Is Right.  Now they’re fat!”

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