Mia: Shaken Not Stirred


The true life stories of a NYC female.

Wednesday, January 16, 2008

Ice Cream Reward



As kids all seven of us (my 2 siblings, me and my 4 uncles being raised by my parents ) would eagerly line up to do the grocery shopping with mom. As a reward for helping mom out with the shopping we'd get to pick our own individual snack. Something we did not have to share with the others in addition to the regular munchies she brought for us.

My BF and I were grocery shopping with my mom yesterday. She had just finished up in the frozen food section when she spotted my favorite ice cream, “Mia go get yourself some ice cream.” I picked a quart of Godiva chocolate ice cream and my BF said, “Mia, Maggie already got a gallon of chocolate ice cream." I explained to him my mother’s reward system and he smiled, his mom never did things like that. “Josh" she said," pick yourself out something too.” He got all shy and mumbled something about it being okay he didn’t need a reward as he eyed his favorite brand of strawberry ice cream. Mom looked at him and said, "Would you prefer something else like cookies?" "It’s okay Maggie. I know it’s a family thing. I’m cool."

All of a sudden my mother developed Tourette’s syndrome and flipped on him. “Oh for the love of Davinci's ass Joshua! You’re part of this freaking family now. Pick out your ice cream or whatever it is you like because I'm not making dessert tonight." Then she smiled at him, "Look if it’ll make you feel better I’ll give you a dish night too!” At that my BF broke out in a huge grin and eagerly grabbed his ice cream from the freezer, “You can give me a dish night Maggie. I’ll do them tonight if you want.” As we made our way to the register I caught him looking at his ice cream in the shopping cart and smiling.

After dinner we’d decided to stay in and watch TV as he settled in next to me he looked at his ice cream and a huge smile appeared on his face. Whoa that dude sure loves his ice cream. Then I realized it wasn’t the ice cream that made him smile. It was what it symbolized to him. Acceptance. He caught me looking at him and glanced at his ice cream again. “Are you going to eat it or should I bronze it for you?” I asked. “Your dad asked me if there was anything in particular I’d like him to make for Super Bowl Sunday. He even said I could cook with him!” The look on his face was beautiful, so tender. “God you’re such an emotional little bitch!” I teased just before I kissed him.

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