We All Scream for Ice Cream
Margareta had a huge sweet tooth. Her favorite sweet was chocolate, but any form of sugar would suffice. She inherited the sweet tooth gene from both parents. We don’t keep dessert on hand at home because we don’t have the will power to eat sweets in a controlled, smart-portion size. So, when our family does splurge on dessert or a special treat, it is a big deal.
On a warm summer afternoon, I decided to take the kids to get ice cream at one of our town’s local ice cream parlors. This parlor is the old fashion type: wrought iron chairs around round tables and ice cream served in glass dishes. They also only take cash. After looking at the prices and how much I had on me, I figured I only had enough to buy a scoop for each of her three big brothers and then one for she and I to share. I told her she would have to share an ice cream with mom, to which she indignantly replied, “No!” But when I told her she needed to share or not get any, she sadly gave in.
When the ice cream was served, the wheels in her three-year old mind had been spinning. My little Margareta had figured out that the faster she ate, the more she would get…so she attempted to eat the shared ice cream at light speed. She even tried to block my spoon a few times. I couldn’t help but be amused. But not so amused that I let her eat it all. It was ice cream, after all.
Submitted by Maria Kubitz in memory of Margareta Kubitz.
This website was inspired by the memory of Margareta Sol Kubitz in hopes of helping others work through the pain of grief.