Ice Cream

Raised in New England, I was pretty spoiled when it came to ice cream.  From Memorial Day to Labor Day we could drive to any town and find an amazing family-run ice cream shack.  These places had the BEST ice cream with enormous amounts at unheard of prices (meaning cheap!).  Our Sunday night tradition was to go to Kimballs for dinner.  Oh, how I miss that place! 
Once I moved below the Mason-Dixon line, those ice cream places virtually vanished.  I don't understand!  Since it's hotter here, shouldn't there be even better ice cream places?  But, no, that is not the case.  Yes, we can walk to Baskin Robbins, which we do a lot, and we can go out for Blizzards at DQ when we get a coupon, but they pale in comparison to the homemade ice cream in NE.  And down here, frozen custard is the rage.  I'm trying to get used to it, but it's still not a favorite of mine.  And it's expensive! 
Last night after an early dinner, we decided to go to a well-known custard place near us.  When we got in the car I said, "Guess what, Evie.  We're going to get some ice cream!"  She threw her hands in the air and screamed excitedly, "Yay!!!! We're going to McDonald's!"  This may have been the lowest point in my parenting career thus far.  But we did have fun, and there is something really nice about eating ice cream in a cone.  (And yes, my daughter is wearing a bib while eating an ice cream cone.  I know it takes the fun out of it, but she was wearing a really cute shirt, and I didn't want it getting all messy.)