It is a truth universally acknowledged that a second child will taste certain tastes at a younger age than their bigger sibling. Because if it isn’t the big sister sharing her bounty (of both the treasure and the chocolate bar variety) that introduces a little something sweet, it will certainly be the result of the indignant wails of the aforementioned tiny one when she notices that another member of the family is eating something that she doesn’t have.
Double the wails if the someone is Kitty.
And so it was with ice-cream. Elma noticed, demanded her share, poked a little finger into my portion, tasted, and decided that this was a food she should be eating (as to be fair has just about everything else she’s ever tried).
And so when Sunday lunch is finished off with Sunday ice cream cone, Miss Elma gets her fair share, a cone and a little mini scoop of vanilla.
She’s got to the point where I think she recognises the sound of the freezer door opening; she certainly recognises the tub appearing on the table and when we hand over a cone she looks ready to burst with happiness.
She sits up in her chair, carefully eating around the top edge, then turns it upside down and bites off the bottom, before turning it back the right way (usually just before the whole thing plops into her lap) and slowly demolishing the remainder as stray drips work their way down the inside and drizzle out onto her fingers leaving her delightedly sticky.
Now that’s the way to enjoy your food.