While Anna was gone for the weekend, Anthony and I decided to capitalize on Colin's naptime. In the romantic tradition of married couples with children, we decided in advance that during Saturday's naptime to have some dessert.
But I worked all day Thursday and Friday, and Saturday morning, too. So by the time Saturday afternoon rolled around, I was a little tired.
"Let's just have vanilla ice cream," I said.
"Ohhhhhh!" Anthony groaned. "I was really hoping we could have banana splits."
"Anthony, I'm a little tired. I'm not saying let's not have dessert, I'm just saying let's just make it plain vanilla ice cream."
"But...." Anthony said, "I was really looking forward to a little something more."
"Remember Tuesday night?" I said, "When I made hot fudge sundaes? And that was all my idea. It was only 5 days ago."
"Okay..." Anthony said, disappointed.
"I can't believe you're complaining about vanilla ice cream. It's always good," I said.
"You're right," he said.
So, we had vanilla ice cream. And it was very, very good. Even Anthony said so.
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