Food.
All the time.
Well, at least my kids do. Today we had a fairly long day of sleeping in, lazing around, watering our garden, and (somehow) making it to IKEA. Poor Oliver had been cranky the entire day, and even lunch of swedish meatballs and mac and cheese wasn't enough to tide our tired boy over. After tantrums and assertions of independence spanning both levels of the store, we decided to get ice cream/frozen yogurt at the end in an effort to plug some happy vibes into our kids. Apart from the moments when Daddy had to sneak giant mouthfuls off of Lena and Ollie's cones so they didn't melt everywhere... and the ensuing tellings off that Daddy received "No Daddy! No! Ice Cream!"... it was a big success.
So much of a success that Oliver, in a sugar coma, fell asleep before we hit the freeway. He then proceeded to dream about his ice cream cone the WHOLE way home. How do we know? Take a look.
And then when we got home, he woke up in a daze and promptly fisted his hand and licked his imaginary cone. And kept licking. And kept licking. I think he was
