Vanilla Ice Cream
Some of you are probably here because you think this is some kind of “50 Shades of Grey” stuff. First of all, ya’ll are nasty. Second of all, I like the way you think. But, alas, this story isn’t filled with stories of whips, chains, and ”Red Rooms”(maybe next time). This story is about my annoyance with my daughter’s love for Vanilla ice cream and how it scares me to pieces.
I should start off by saying that I love my daughter “to infinity and beyond!!” I encourage all of her whims and, almost, 13 year old girly goals. She’s way more cool than I could ever have thought about being and I kind of wish I had her spunk and excitement for all things “lit”and fun. If Denise Huxtable had a baby with ideal Disney kid, THAT would be my baby. but for all of that personality and vibrance, this girl insists on only choosing Vanilla ice cream.
You want to know when I REALLY got concerned? I’ll tell you. She went on a trip to the Turkey Hill factory. A place where you have the chance to live your silliest ice cream dreams. I was so excited for the stories she would come home and tell me. I imagined she would talk about all of the toppings she added to the crazy ice cream flavors she picked. I thought about the stomach ache she may experience from all of the ice cream varieties that didn’t mix well in her little belly. I was excited for this chance for her. So imagine my dismay when this little girl told me about her custom creation.
My little Lisa Bonet exited the school bus in her usual miserable “I just rode 2 hours on a hot school bus” state. I asked her about her day and she began to tell me of her ice cream escapades. As she continued speaking, my brain exploded. “You mean to tell me you went to the TURKEY HILL ICE CREAM FACTORY AND MADE VANILLA ICE CREAM WITH GUMMY BEARS???” She had the nerve to be shocked about my mini stroke.
Why did this bother me so? Why did HER conscious choice make me blow a gasket? Perhaps I’m taking this too seriously. Maybe I’m being a little Joan Crawford-esque, but hear me out. Vanilla ice cream is life. It isn’t meant to be consumed as is. It’s meant to be a foundation for greatness. Vanilla, to me, is the floor level of that tall glass building that we’ve been admiring from afar. Vanilla ice cream is a clean slate meant for filling.
Her choice of VANILLA, along with other things, showed me her hesitance to dream and experiment and learned. Her choice of VANILLA held up a mirror to me. When she picks VANILLA, it scares me because this is the only time, I see myself in her. Aside from her physical appearance of course.
I told you before, this girl is what I have always wanted to be. I let my own life stay VANILLA. It wasn’t until 2015 that I really chose to seek out new flavors.
Yes, I buy the VANILLA ice cream because I know she likes it, but I hope with all of my heart, that she understands that life begs for so much more than gummy bears.
