I Scream, You Scream, We All Scream for Ice Cream

Mmmmm…ice cream. That delicious dairy treat we all loved as kids, usually because we couldn’t get enough of it. We loved it on cones, but our parents hated it that way…something about it being messy. Eating ice cream from a dish, especially at an ice cream place, just wasn’t as good. And the more sprinkles, chocolate syrup, and random toppings, the better.

As a kid, ice cream was closely guarded at our house, even though it was purchased in gallon quantities. And pretty much all we ever had was vanilla (except for that Rainbow Sherbet kick we got on for a while). I guess that was the easiest attempt to please the most people. You could always add stuff to it…cookies, chocolate chips, you get the idea. It was always a special treat, monitored carefully, and hardly ever shared between siblings.

But once you grow up a little, ice cream sort of loses its mysterious appeal. Sure, it’s still good, but you wouldn’t eat it for breakfast like you wanted to when you were six, there is nothing funny about an ice cream headache, and you wouldn’t load it with so much stuff that you were having “a little ice cream with your toppings.” And the plain flavors go out the window too…we become more “refined” with our flavors of choice…Butter Pecan, Mint Chocolate Chip, Cappuccino…. And the plain cone isn’t enough…we need the dipped waffle cones. I also think of ice cream as more of a summertime treat, but lots of people eat it year-round, even when it’s freezing outside.

I learned after I got married just how particular people are about Ice Cream. Husband loves ice cream, and would eat it every day if he could. However, he cannot handle having a melty area of ice cream. He must eat it straight from the freezer, or if we go out, immediately upon receiving it from the server. He eats his ice cream at an amazing rate of speed…much too fast for me. I don’t even try to keep up. If we’ve driven through Sonic or Shake’s (which are about 5 minutes from our house), he’s got his eaten long before we get home. I’m usually not even half done by the time he’s finished. I like to eat mine slowly…savoring each bite (and not getting an ice cream headache).

Husband also refuses to share dairy products...he says something about them is so pure they can’t be tainted by someone else. Reminds me of the little girl in Signs who takes one drink out of her glass, then refuses any more because, “It’s contaminated.” I can’t even single-dip a cookie in the same glass of milk he’s dipping cookies in. And if we order a dessert at a restaurant that comes with ice cream, he has to slice off a chunk for him to eat that I am not to touch. Strange, I know. But I guess I can handle it. He puts up with the numerous strange quirks I have, so I guess I can suffer through eating my own ice cream and dairy products.

On the upside, I can keep my ice cream all to myself by just licking the top, sticking my finger in it, or even just breathing on it. I can rest easy know it will be perfectly safe if I get distracted doing something else.