She has - for weeks - been talking about making a sundae on Sunday. This is a very specific sundae. It is not a banana split, but it has bananas. It also has four kinds of ice cream (chocolate, vanilla, strawberry, and chocolate chip mint), chocolate syrup, mini marshmallows, sprinkles, whipped cream, and two cherries. It is apparently supposed to be served in "a golden bowl" but I refused to buy a golden bowl for the sake of a sundae; that's expensive.
There was much discussion and angst when we were at the store, because I had to convince her that we could use one scoop of Neapolitan in place of three separate scoops, one of each flavor. And of course, Lizzy being Lizzy, she has to have the ingredients put in the not-golden bowl in a certain order. Just like her clothes when I lay them out for her.
This is not all that strange in and of itself. Not around here anyway.
What's really strange is that she has no idea where she got this concept.
From TV? No. From a book? No.
"Mo-om, I thought it up in my own head."
And as I said she's been talking about it for weeks.
So we're having a Sundae Sunday.
And it is glorious.
And it's unlikely to happen very often, because oh my god the sugar.
+Laston Kirkland calls it the diabetenator.
It's a good thing we're having chicken and salad for dinner, because I think the Hubs and the kids have used up their calorie quota for the weekend already.
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