Dessert, or "D.Z." as it's called around our house, is supposed to be a reward for good behavior. Far too often, it's simply a concession on our part to just get them settled down for a few minutes. Anyway, Cheese goes and grabs the D.Z. out of the freezer tonight - mini ice cream sandwiches.
He walks around the dining room with these in some sort of ritualistic dance. Then he sets one on the table and carries the other in a unique way, prompting this from me:
"Cheese, get the ice cream sandwich out of your armpit."
- Daddy
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