My foster granddaughter and I went to our local ice cream parlor yesterday after school, and we had an interesting discussion about the ordering. First, she asked if she could have a milk shake with her grilled cheese sandwich, and an ice cream. I said if she drank her milk shake (see how I carefully didn't say ALL) then she could have ice cream. So we ordered, and colored, and found nine odd things in the picture, then ate. She first ate all the whipped cream off the shake, then all the potato chips, then her sandwich. I drank all my water so I could put her shake in her plastic cup with the lid, and I saw that almost none of the shake was gone. The waitress came around and asked if we'd be ordering dessert. I said no, despite my granddaughter's pleading look. Then I explained to her, very rationally, I thought, that a milk shake was ice cream, and she had not eaten it, so I could not see the point in ordering more. She pointed out that she might not order vanilla, like the shake. I let this pass, though we both knew she only likes vanilla, and when she tries any other flavor, she says she doesn't like it and it gets thrown away. I can't have sugar, so it really is wasted.
Of course I broke down first. This is why she is going to be a trial lawyer, and I could only be the victim or criminal. So I said I had ice cream at home, but I wasn't willing to buy any at the cafe. She was satisfied. I carried her milk shake to the car, and put it in the freezer when we got home. She had mango mochi ice cream from Trader Joe's, and didn't finish it, so I threw it away. Then she asked for two tiny pieces of dark chocolate, and after she ate those, a third piece. My resistance having run down considerably, which she counts on rightly, she had the third piece. Then she said she was hungry. I offered her fruit, goldfish crackers and cheese sticks. She decided to think it over. Then she requested lemonade and water, which I supplied.
A million down a million to go. Bet on the little one.
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