On Sunday evening, Grandma & Grandpa M. treated the kids to a trip to the dairy bar in McClure. The kids were all told that they needed to use the facilities and wash their hands before we left for our excursion. I went in to check on them, because the task was taking so long, and Lucy got quite flippant and defiant with me. I calmly told her that I could stay at the house with her if she didn't want to do what she was told. At that point, Ross finished washing his hands, took off for the door and yelled over his shoulder, "I'll tell them we can leave without you and that you want a swirly." A swirly? I think he meant twist, which has become my cone flavor of choice lately. Thanks for the offer, Ross, but I'll pass on that swirly.
And it was a very deja vu-ish (so not a word, but I think you know what I mean) feeling getting a treat at the dairy bar...reminded me of some very long gone summers.
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