Ice Kweem

Makenna_11_2008_2yrsThere is one thing in this world, and only one thing in this world that will make my bullheaded, deeply focused, independent and self-aware two year old immediately stop what she's doing and look you in the eyes. And that word is "ICE CREAM."

But, bewarned: Like unsheathing your light sabre, pressing the red button, using the "D-word" in marriage, crying in public or making a porno, you can never take it back. And it will haunt you. 

Maybe not for the rest of your life, but for the next hour at minimum - or until you finally cave and give the boss what she wants. She will stand in front of you, hands on little hips, and say, "Ice kweem?" Ignore her and she'll try various variations: The Coquette. (Tilt your head sideways, smile and say "ice kweem?" softly and sweetly.) The Blaster. (Holler and repeat "ICE KWEEEEEEEM!" at the top of your lungs, ad infinitum.) And my personal favorite, The Exorcist. (Eyes wide, deep growly, gravelly voice demanding, disturbingly, "Ice kweeeeeem!")

And in case you were wondering just exactly what she would want? Well, that would be ice cream.

A cone is good. Vanilla, preferably. But any flavor will do. Even if she just ate. Even if she just finished another ice cream. Even if there is a bloody Band-Aid on top of it or she dropped it on the floor of a New York subway station. She would still want and eat that ice cream. 

Proof positive, by the way, that she's my biological offspring. 


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I am a writer and lazy artist who loves travel, architecture and design. Right now, I'm into photography. My fabulous husband (a.k.a. The Varmint) and I are also the principals of a San Diego-based creative agency - and new parents to the divine Baby Mak. Read More >