There’s an ebullient message in my childhood diary, from the summer I was nine: “Today, mom let us have ice cream in the afternoon. And then she went to book club when dad got home…and he didn’t know we had already had ice cream and let us have ice cream again!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” (Except in my diary, the exclamation points actually went on for lines.)
That’s one of very few entries I wrote—it was obviously the highlight of my summer.
Then I grew up and realized, calories and health aside, I could have ice cream whenever I wanted, and however many times a day I wanted to. (See also: Cheez-its.) But I try to reserve the double dip for vacations: usually it’s an afternoon cone on the boardwalk, or a big scoop of mango sorbet to cool off after the beach. And then, after dinner, my family gathers at our usual spot, and we order the same flavors we’ve been ordering since the Clinton administration. It’s glorious. Even if the cones are small (not that mine are), it still makes you feel like a kid who got away with something AWESOME.
And if you need an excuse to try it, this is the time—July 15th is National Ice Cream Day. Go ahead—put a scoop of vanilla on your pancakes. Take a walk and try to keep up with a melting cone. Make over-the-top sundaes after dinner. And then go to sleep, dreaming in exclamation points. Ice cream twice—in one day?!? It’s guaranteed to result in sweet dreams.
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