When the weather is hot there is nothing kids like more than popsicles. In our case, the ante has been upped considerably by Aunt Cessy introducing "soda pops." Garishly colored and filled with unrecognizable ingredients, they have immediately become the frozen treat of choice in my house. The delicious and wholesome frozen fruit bars that I've offered in their place sit lonely and pathetic in the freezer, waiting for the phone to ring, metaphorically speaking.
So each evening after dinner, the girls take their hideous bounty and go outside since I fear if they dripped on the floor the chemicals might just eat through to the basement. Last night we had a huge thunderstorm so they got to have dessert in the garage. Do you suppose when they grow up and reminisce about their childhood summers they'll wax poetic about their mother feeding them artificial dye, chemicals and water wrapped in plastic?
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