Handing an ice cream cone to a toddler is like handing her a loaded gun. It's dangerous and messy.
Momlogic's Momstrosity: Like every new parent, I relished the idea of my daughter's first ice cream cone-- at least for the guaranteed adorable photo op. So, on a scorching hot day at a California beach, I strolled into a seemingly innocent ice cream parlor determined to buy my 2-year-old her first frozen milestone.
First mistake: I ordered chocolate.
Second mistake: I handed it to my daughter.
We stepped outside into the sun. For one nano-second that painfully cute image I had in my head of my little girl and an ice cream cone came true. I melted. Then, the ice cream started to melt. And melt. My tiny tot froze, clutching the cone and not even realizing it was edible. "Lick it," I told her. She started to catch on, and lightly patted the top with her tongue. Meanwhile, torrents of ice cream were already soaking her dress and shoes.
Third mistake: I didn't bring a change of clothes.
I rushed her back into the ice cream shop. "Please," I begged, "I need some napkins!" The spotty kid behind the counter peeled off two wafer thin napkins as if he were doling out gold leaf and handed them to me with a shrug. By now she looked like a 32-inch-tall Almond Joy covered from head to toe in chocolate. Yet her little hands still clutched that cone.
Fourth mistake: I tried to take the cone away from her.
The words of the late Charlton Heston popped into my head: " I'll give you my gun when you take it from my cold, dead hands." This must have been what he meant. She continued to white-knuckle the cone.
Fifth mistake: I took the cone away from her.
She started screaming at the top of her lungs. OMG, I thought. Did I just scar her for life? Will she be blaming me years later in therapy? "I guess my eating disorder really started the time my callous mother yanked away my first ice cream cone."
First thing I did right: I quickly handed the streaming cone back to her.
The crying stopped. I gave up any idea of controlling the situation, and we walked over to a patch of of grass and sat down. She looked up at me with her chocolate mask face, and took a bite out of her now empty, dripping cone mixed with the paper wrapping and smiled, "Mommy, I like it." I melted again.