“One Ice Cweam, Pwease!”
The other day, upon returning home after work, I immediately realized that Jackie was exhausted and more than a little aggravated with the boys. It was a combination of several things, I’m sure. She didn’t have to say anything, really. After all, the boys were running rampant and half-naked, chasing each other and waving around various objects, while she sat at the table with her “SAVE ME” look. At that point, I decided it was time to give her a break.
“I’ll take the boys out with me for a while and we’ll bring home a pizza for dinner, ok?” Her face registered instant, if mild, relief.
Of course the boys were excited about a car ride and getting out of the house. We got ready, then headed out. While enroute to get the pizza, we passed by a local ice cream shop.
Jackson spotted it and began to yell, “Ice cweam house, ice cweam house!”
I called back, “Yes, Jack, it’s the ice cream house. Now, calm down. Don’t have a cow.”
But I thought to myself, “Something sweet might perk up Jackie’s mood.” So, I made a mental note to swing by on our way back from Papa John’s.
When we finally got back to the “ice cweam house”, Jackson became ecstatic. He started rattling off random toppings and flavors that I never realized he knew. We ordered at the drive-through and proceeded to the window. Of course, I rolled down his window so he could see what was going on. No sooner had I stopped at the window, did Jackson begin to order something else for himself, at the top of his lungs.
“I’ll have ONE ice cweam, pwease!”
The girl at the window tried hard to ignore him, but she couldn’t help but smile at the little blue-eyed boy trying his best to land himself a big ice cream cone. Jackson was persistent though, even until she closed the window.
“One ice cweam, pwease. One ice- HEY!”