Well, it's completely true.
For the last week I've been feeling miserable: sore throat, stinging eyes, headache. All I've wanted to eat are pineapple mango smoothies. Needless to say, I haven't felt much like cooking dinner, either.
So. Wednesday night. Miss O's ballet class ended at 6:30, prime dinner time. Coldstone and its yummy smoothies were right down the block. And I felt no cooking love.
As we left the studio, I said to O, "So, do you want ice cream for dinner tonight?"
Her eyes widened, and I could tell she was stunned. You could almost see the little hamster wheel in her head spinning. "Wait, did she just say I could have ice cream for dinner? Did I maybe not hear her right? This doesn't make any sense."
"Dude, do you want ice cream for dinner or not?"
"YES!"
She turned back to her classmates who were behind us on the steps of the studio. "Hey, Clara! Maura! I'm gonna have ICE CREAM for dinner! Nothing else. No veggies. Nothing healthy! Just ice cream!"
I said silent apologies to all the other mothers whose dinnertime I completely wrecked with my wanton parenting, then steered O down the street to Coldstone.
The next day she started ratting me out. DH and Miss O went to pick up our babysitter; her mother (O's art teacher at school) asked O how her summer had been so far. Without hesitation, she said, "My mom let me have ICE CREAM for dinner last night! JUST ice cream!"
The next day we saw Sarah walking down the street. "Miss Sarah, guess what? My mom let me have ice cream for dinner the other night!"
We spend thousands of dollars to send her to camps over the summer. We buy her books and games. We take her bike riding, to the movies, to Paris. We let her have sleepovers and birthday parties and playdates.
But what has made the greatest impression on her little mind is the fact that one night I let her have ice cream for dinner.
Comments