My GD (granddaughter) and I had the pleasure of eating lunch with my 87 year old mother today. And by the way, my mother cooked the lunch after she played the organ at her church service in the morning. She’s a amazing lady.
But I digress.
GD was kind of picking at her lunch; she had eaten a late breakfast and wasn’t terribly hungry. After we adults had finished our hodge-podge, my mother looked at me and said, “Would anyone like to have some i-c-e-c-r-e-a-m?”, spelling so if I didn’t want GD to have dessert, it wouldn’t become an issue. However, GD looked up at her great-grandmother and said, “Oh, yes! I do!”
I asked, “What do you think ‘i-c-e-c-r-e-a-m’ is?”
“Ice cream,” GD replied confidently.
GD is 3 and a half years old. You could have knocked my mother and I over with a feather. Our mouths dropped open, and then we both burst out laughing.
And of course, GD got her ice cream.