He must want ice cream. He saw us eating some before bed time the previous night. Oh, who am I to deny my one year some good ol’ ice cream for breakfast?
It was just another regular morning. I woke up to cuddles, bites and a kick in the groin. The routine has been the same since he turned 1. Stumble sleepily into the kitchen with him on my back, feed him a banana, and the energy kicks in for hours of running around the house. Today he had a request.
He must want ice cream. He saw us eating some before bed time the previous night. Oh, who am I to deny my one year some good ol’ ice cream for breakfast? I served him two fluffy scoops of his all-natural sugar-free frozen banana ice cream. He was confused, but happy, and I was happy thinking I am the sneakiest coolest mum around.
Day two: More aaaiikeeem.
And then I ran out of banana ice cream, so I tricked him with frozen yogurt with honey for sweetness and topped it with sprinkles.
I began to notice he always looked confused when I served it to him. I figured he must be smart enough to realise that it isn’t ice cream but he is just playing along to push myself to sneakier lows.
I ran out of options by the end of the month. Soon, I was giving him regular butter scotch ice cream, but topped with muesli and lots of nuts to make it okay to consume at 7 in the morning.
One month of ice cream for breakfast, and it no longer felt weird. My eggs and toast looked ridiculous in comparison. And then a book I ordered for him got delivered.
All about animals. We went through it one by one.
Yeah, he said Aiikeeem. And it wasn’t ice cream. It never was. That was his word for a monkey. Innocent sugar-free monkey.
For more than 35 days, my son asked me to put on an episode of Curious George for breakfast, and I forced him to eat ice cream. What must he have been thinking?
This post was originally published as a note on my Facebook timeline.