Who Cries for Ice Cream?

Setting

It is a typical May Saturday in Portland – meaning gray and rainy. My daughter has finished her horse lesson and we are at the mall. The wife received a gift certificate and a bonus from work and needs new clothes for summer. Daughter has mentioned a couple of times that her legs hurt after her lesson – btw her trainer mentioned later that Saturdays are light days and she shouldn’t have problems with her legs.

My wife has been talking about seeing ‘ The DaVinci Code’ and the daughter has mentioned multiple times she doesn’t want to see it.

The movie starts at 3:30 and it is about 2:45, so to cheer the kid up I suggest getting ice cream. We are standing in line, and I have picked out my ice cream, and the nice pastel blue dish I desire said ice cream to be in.

We are next up to be served. I can almost taste the delicious chocolate ice cream, and I hear this whiney, teary voice from behind me –

“I just can’t take it anymore . . . my legs hurt so bad . . . I can barely stand . . .”

I turn around to glare at the offending crying whiner, only to find out the kid behind me in tears is my own daughter.

Question – Who cries next in line getting ice cream?

Answer – My 12 year old daughter.

End Result

I was pretty mad – even the old Buddhist prayer beads I wear were unable to assuage my anger.

Here is the result:

  • We didn’t see the movie my wife and I wanted to see.
  • We had a nice car ride home – by nice, I mean there was *raised voices, and a crying 12 year old.
  • Daughter took a tub, and was to spend the rest of the afternoon in her room – too wounded to have the fun we want, too wounded to have the fun she wanted.
  • I worked around the house, and took a trip to Home Depot.
  • Spouse talked me into taking the kid to Home Depot (hey I thought she was supposed to be in her room).

*I would like to let it be known that I don’t really yell. I am told that I get a tone in my voice that my wife and kid refer to as yelling, but I like to point out that I don’t really raise my voice.

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