No Nuts, Please

It was the point in my day when I gaze at my children and actually burst with pride and love. The mid afternoon hump when they're awake and happy, before the late afternoon meltdown, after the lunchtime whining. The girls and I were sitting at the Foster's Freeze with an ice cream sundae. Ana had a wondrous look on her face as she stared down the fish tank. Shelby was a vision of blond curls and dirt mustache. I couldn't have been happier, sitting there with my children. It was at this moment that Shelby decided she did not like peanuts in her whipped cream and sprayed peanut shrapnel all over the back of Ana's car seat. When she tried the maraschino cherry she immediately chewed and then, spit that out, too. "I don't want to eat the nut, Mommy." I tried to assure her that these special cherries don't have a pit. She willingly chomped down on it again only to spit the dripping red stickiness out all over the table. "I don't think that's a cherry, mommy." I quickly gathered my kids and left a $2 tip on the last clean corner of our table.

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