Ice Cream Social

Published March 8, 2013 by clanofthesleepingbear

Once a month our local MOMS club has a New Member Event, at a local business. Today we were to meet at an ice cream shop that had just reopened for the season. It was kind of risky, scheduling an ice cream event in early March, and Mother Nature helped us out by sending us an entire day of first snow, and then rain. Perfect ice cream weather.

As generally happens when we have something scheduled for the hours between V’s nap and dinner, today V had trouble napping. Instead of her usual 2-2.5 hours she slept for about 20 minutes, so by the time we were ready to leave for the ice cream shop, she was laying her head down on various surfaces, showing her exhaustion. I would have bailed on the whole thing except we were meeting S’s Very Best Friend at the event, and both friends were counting on this time together.

We get to the ice cream shop and discover it is closed. The owner is in the hospital, giving birth, and in her laboring did not call in someone else to open the shop. The MOMS settle for the pastry shop across the street, which had the strong bonus of being open for business. I don’t think the pastry shop people are accustomed to large influxes of children, and for once I was relieved that our club has such chronic low attendance at events.

The kids sugar up on various baked delights and then start running about this tiny shop, playing first one game, and then another. The I-Spy game fizzled out after I shooed them away from the corner of the shop featuring the trash can, fire extinguisher, and front door. I don’t know what they were spying up there, but hopefully it wasn’t the pin on the fire extinguisher. Next, they started playing ring-around-the-rosey which kept them in one area nicely, but involved a lot of kid piles.

The event was supposed to last an hour. We got there about 15 minutes late and I felt compelled to stay until the end time, so S could have the time with her bestie. Forty-one minutes after we arrive, with children in heaps on the floor and the owners of the pastry shop hiding in the back, we call the event over. My girls got bundled into their coats willingly, and we left. There was lots of hugging between S and A, and neither was very eager to leave the other. S got a bit weepy on the ride home about having to leave A, as “I miss her so much!”

Once home the girls are reluctant to go inside, and since it has finally stopped precipitating, I let them stay out. V, as always, makes a beeline for the backyard. S and I follow her. S is gleeful about the little bit of snow still left on the ground. V is overjoyed to see the jungle gym again.

Ten minutes later and V is screaming at me to put her in the wet swing, which I have been repeatedly refusing to do. It’s wet! She is so distraught she falls to the ground, sobbing. I pick her up, a thrashing, sobbing sack of potatoes. I convince S to leave her snowy wonderland, and we walk to the front door to go inside. V is inconsolable. Once inside, and out of her winter clothes, she sits on the living room floor, and still crying, repeatedly bangs one of her shoes on the ground. She is ANGRY.

It takes almost thirty minutes for V to get over the injustice of not swinging on her jungle gym, and then being escorted inside.

S then asks me for ice cream.

I wonder what time is appropriate to start drinking.

Another successful outing!


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