Mom got a hankerin' for some ice cream this week, so with a half an hour to spare before Abby's bedtime, we raced out to satisfy the craving. What we found was an old-fashioned ice cream shoppe (the extra "pe" at the end makes that old-fashioned stuff all the more authentic), complete with malts and sugar cones. I opted for my standard mint chocolate chip, but Abby seemed to prefer her dad's vanilla, perhaps because he was more willing to share than I was. I love my daughter, but I'm fiercely territorial where ice cream is concerned.
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