Ice cream

I scream
You scream
Who doesn’t scream
For ice cream!

Well, let’s see – first and foremost, there would the lactose-intolerant. And vegans. And maybe the food truck offering liver and onions that’s trying to compete with the ice cream vendors on a really hot day. They probably wouldn’t be on the ice cream bandwagon even though everyone should know that iron helps us play.

Now the Patrem really likes liver and onions and has actually traveled to get some, much to the horror of the northern NJ diner staff and pretty much everyone else who heard about that dining experience. We haven’t tried serving liver to the Micro-Dragon yet as he’s not exactly going out of his way to try new things that arrive on the plate, and proto-school isn’t running “Liver and Onion Wednesdays” promos (watch how that one flies with the student population). Given that the paternal phenotype is weak in this one, and the Mom’s declaration that her consumption of liver is restricted to foie gras, we’re not really holding out high hopes. He could still surprise us, but I don’t see the family sitting down to a big meal of liver and onions until oh, at least the end of the second term of the Hillary presidency.

But we’re not screaming for Liver Mac/McNuggets (which would be awesome, and since you read that here first we claim worldwide intellectual property rights to the concept and the name which adjusts depending on whether referring to the [purported] Scots or Irish parts of the heritage), we’re screaming for ice cream.

Ice cream!

Ice cream!

Before continuing, we already know that Liam Wallace has hit the ripe age of two and among all the other things, has been busy honing his mighty brain and language skills. Remember, the Patrem interacts with him in English and Taiwanese, the Mom and maternal grandparents in French, Super-Fina in Spanish, and the paternal grandparents in English, Taiwanese, Mandarin and Franglais (a holdover of their interaction with the paternal cousins who are raised in French and speak like Parisians).

5.5 languages means that extended conversations and political discourse are still a work in progress, but there’s plenty of multi-lingual counting (bidirectional 1-10 in English, French and Taiwanese, 11-20 with the occasional skipped number in English and French) and already adaptive interaction, correcting for language in real-time conversation depending on whom he is conversing with person.

He also sings. There’s the Alphabet Song, which he sings in English and French, though in English he says “zee” like his Sesame Street-graduate Patrem does because it’s zee-bra and not zed-bra. Plus there’s a new one which goes “poisson dans l’eau, (something something) nage, nage…“. The parentals are out of it because the Mom can’t remember what song this is (her fault for not wanting to eat squid during pregnancy in spite of knowing that the Micro-Dragon could potentially suck out her brain to ensure he received adequate fatty acids for fetal development) and the Patrem is clueless when it comes to pretty much all French music much less the nursery rhymes.

So keep all of that and ice cream in mind as we go forward, and feel free to scroll back up to double-check because we do not yet have a download-able scorecard handy.

This past weekend was a pretty busy one for the Micro-Dragon as there were a couple of unexpected changes to the scheduled menu plan.

Following the return from proto-school on Friday afternoon, Micro-Dragon was already pumped to stay up late in anticipation of the Mom’s return from her pilgrimage to nerdvana. There was a bit of a surprise because she arrived earlier than expected on (and on Delta no less) and was bearing many gifts, including clothes, a Lego Batman shirt (because everything is awesome!), various snacks and two micro-bottles of bottled water. Those bottles were a big hit because he could do open/close and use the contents to both quench his thirst and wash the floor. Not at the same time: it was  drink from bottle, pour contents onto floor, wipe, repeat.

Was he glad she was back and that the week-long Patrem-only endeavor was finally over?

See for yourself: this is a photo of some mother-son quiet time after Saturday’s excursion to the market for delicious tomato.

Welcome home, Mom - I'm glad you're back

Saturday morning wasn’t actually planned as an impromptu hugging opportunity as Liam Wallace had been invited to another birthday party by a second girl in proto-school. Unfortunately it’s also the second straight birthday party that he was unable to attend. The first one a couple of months ago eventually became a no-go as he was confirmed with conjunctivitis a few days prior to the event and wasn’t feeling well enough to attend. Plus it’s really really contagious as the parentals discovered first-hand the week following.

And this last one? While the Mom was unpacking her Comic-Con booty she received a frantic message from the birthday girl’s mother, who was trying to contact all the invitees to advise that the party had been cancelled because she was in the hospital birthing unit giving birth to her second child. I don’t know what the Mom was thinking when she listened to the message, but the Patrem had this eerie sense of déjà-vu hearing about how the this kid had initiated a little waterburst and was coming out a month early. Didn’t something like this already happen back in July 2012? We’re pretty sure…

So no party, but the scheduling hole provided an opportunity to go to the market for delicious tomato from Mme Pinsonneault, delicious wild blueberries from the blueberry centre of Québec, and of course letting his Mom know he was happy she was back from her road trip.


The Mom treating everyone to breakfast before IKEA! the North American go-to for all things Scandinavian.

IKEA! ABBA! it's not just pop music!

Not just flat-pack, but also food and subliminal messaging for 1970s-era pop music (those tins of pop singer are actually pretty good and the Kalles kaviar is an integral albeit salty part of the Swedish experience).

There was the obligatory before-breakfast fashion show modeling his new clothes (San Diego shirt) replete with the “I’m hungry” je ne sais quoi pouty pose at the top of the stairs. He looks really grown up all of a sudden, doesn’t he? And see those toes? We’ve spotted him working on his pincer action, just like when he was back inside his Mom.

Modeling his new San Diego shirt on the stairs

But finally it was time to get to the local breakfast establishment.

The country decoration, wall art and plastic chickens pretty much identify where we went – there’s a certain consistency there especially in terms of what will be deemed palatable (toast, delicious ham, delicious sausage, baked beans, various fruit excluding cantaloupe, honeydew melon and unripe carambola) and what won’t be (eggs, rubbery crêpe, cantaloupe, honeydew melon, unripe carambola, the horror potatoes…).

Multi-coffees for the parentals, orange juice for Liam Wallace, something with fruit for the Mom so that he could have a broad selection of fruit, and the Gargantua for the Patrem because that option comes with toast, delicious ham, delicious sausage and baked beans, and the Patrem can eat the patty of cretons and overcooked bacon along with the eggs, rubbery crêpe, cantaloupe … and the horror potatoes.

This local iteration of the chain now offers free albeit slow Wi-Fi connectivity so Liam Wallace was able to see how much of a hit his AAPL holdings took on the broad two-day selloff that ended the trading week. By the expression, one can see that he’s making blorpy noises but did understand that it was a short-term dip as AAPL enters the annual pre-iDevice announcement phase of the fiscal year. The free Wi-Fi is actually nice, because apart from permitting access to online content, it goes a way towards making up for the restaurant chain’s decades-long inability to improve on their horror potatoes.

Checking AAPL while waiting for breakfast

Now if you have followed this far, we have talked about ice cream, liver and onions (mmm…), post-market time with the Mom, clothes, Apple’s recent  stock performance, IKEA, Swedish cuisine… and horror potatoes.

What about the ice cream? Didn’t we start this all off with ice cream?

The family unit finished off the Sunday by inviting the paternal grandparents for a roast chicken dinner, which started with the Mom and the Micro-Dragon doing a quality mother-son walk to the grandparent homestead for a run around the back yard prior to returning to sit down to that roast chicken. The rice and delicious tomatoes were delicious. The chicken? Meh. he at least poked at it before refusing to eat it so there is progress, though the multiple units of Stoned Wheat Thins and the cheddar begin consumed on the walk home might have dampened the appetite just a smidge.

After he finished downing most of an apricot yogurt and using the remainder as a treatment to help his hair stay shiny and silky soft, the Mom got up and asked everyone if they would like to have ice cream because we simultaneously have both ice cream and two different sizes of ice cream cones to hold the ice cream.

When he was asked whether he wanted an ice cream cone, the Micro-Dragon said  said “ice cream!” and “yeah!”, sat back in his chair with a big smile and waited. And waited. And waited. And waited. And waited.

[sound of crickets]

There’s his Mom still standing there, but no ice cream and it’s been several minutes since he confirmed he would like one.

So what would a typical two-year old do in this scenario?

We have already observed other toddlers scream, yell, throw things and roll on filthy shopping centre floors like the hot dogs on Dairy Queen’s commercial hot dog cooking rollers.

No, none of that for Mr. I’m linguistically adept for my age.

When she hadn’t budged to prepare the promised ice cream cone, Liam Wallace concluded that his Mom might be linguistically challenged herself and perhaps did not understand his earlier affirmation. To get her attention, he vigorously waved his arms over his head as if signaling a float plane to approach Castaway Island, and then chirped “crème glacée! crème glacée!” to make sure that she fully and truly understood that he wanted the ice cream cone.



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