Ice cream before bed

As I was driving home just now--on an impromptu trip to the grocery store to buy the kids (and Cyndi) some ice cream--a thought came into my mind. I miss milk and cookies. When I was a kid, one of the best parts of my day was when my mom and dad served us milk and cookies. We got cold milk in a glass, and were offered two or three cookies. Depending on how big they were. Sometimes we got Chips Ahoy, sometimes we got Fudge Stripes, other times it was Matt's Chocolate Chip, or a generic Oatmeal Raisin.

My favorite was Oreo cookies. I'm the kind of person who carefully splits open the Oreo, scrapes his teeth against the sweet white cream, licks every bit of the cream off with my tongue, and then eats the chocolate cookie. I'm not a big cookie dipper. I don't like soft or soggy cookies.

We didn't get milk and cookies every night, and my memory really takes me back to the quad on Wellington Avenue. But I think that's what makes the memory so special. If we got it every night, we would have taken it for granted. The occasional treat was perfect.

Just like tonight. The kids certainly didn't need ice cream (Cyndi may have...), but I wanted to do something special for them. And something simple.

And as I write this, moments before we will all huddle on our bed for a nighttime story, I look over at the kids (and Cyndi). I see the joy in the faces as they take a scoop of Moose Tracks and Butterfinger Ice Cream. I couldn't decide which one to get. So I got both. And they wanted both. Frederic is licking his spoon. Lily is slurping the last remains from her bowl. Cyndi is taking a sip from her coffee; she finished first.

Sure, they'll go to bed with sugar in their stomach and coursing through their veins. But in years to come, they might sit back--as I am now--and remember fondly, the time their dad gave them ice cream before bed.