How to Order Ice Cream in Public

You're out with the kids having the best day ever.  It's warm but not too hot.  You've just come from a great time at the splash pad.  Nobody fell and scraped a knee.  Pure merriment from start to finish.  

You, as the great parent you are, know there is only one way to cap off this Brady Bunch-esque outing.  Ice motherfucking cream!!

There's nothing better than an ice cream cone to a kid.  It's theirs and theirs alone. A sphere of creamy sugar placed on top of an easy to hold, edible handle.   And any decent ice cream stand these days is going to have 10 flavours to choose from.   Do you want Moon Mist or Purple, Caramel Rainbow? This is the child's equivalent to receiving oral sex while sitting in a vibrating, massage chair.  

So you're wondering how I could fuck this up?  How could the most joyous act of childhood turn to a shitstorm in a matter of 20 to 30 licks?  I'll fucking tell you all right.  

This problem is a relatively new one.  It did not exist for decade's of ice cream's initial existence.   There was a time that things were simple. Flavours were simple.  You picked strawberries from your own damn strawberry patch and tossed them in.  You got some vanilla beans, you got some chocolate.  And life was good.  But we can never be satisfied can we?  And I can tell you the exact moment that things went too far.  It was the day some jackass decided to put little pieces of bunblegum into ice cream.  This opened the floodgates to putting all other kinds of chunky shit in ice cream.  You can now get god damned mini peanut butter cups in your ice cream.  When I was a kid the technology probably didn't even exist to make peanut butter cups that small.  Anyway, there's just too many ice creams now full of chunks.  Chunks!  Chunks! CHUNKS!

So how does this ruin' the greatest Sunday (quite possibly) in the history of parenting.  I'll tell you.  Inequity.  I let the kids order chunky ice cream.  They each got the Moose Tracks,  There must be 4 different kinds of chocolate, chunky bling in there.  And somehow, for some reason I was cursed on that day.  Or rather, my son was.  While her brother, who is just 18 months older than his six-year-old sister, received a veritable pirate's bounty of chunks, his sister received but 4.  This, of course, caused her to lose her absolute shit as she melted down about the inequity of this seemingly life-altering tragedy.

Now you're probably wondering how the kept a tally when they were just licking away at their cones.  This, of course, is because they were stacking up their chunks on the napkin that came with the cone.  (You didn't get that? It's like you're not even a parent.)
So, in the category of "things they don't tell you in parenting books", for the love of God do try to steer your children away from ice creams with chunks.  And never, never let them order the exact same chunky ice cream.  It can only end in a horrible tantrum.  And your kids will be upset too.