Growing up, we were a family of 4 people total. When my mom would bring packaged ice cream treats home from the grocery store I would immediately count the number of items in the box to see how many I was allotted. Nestle Drumsticks were the worst; everyone was slotted to only have one. From the time the treat of choice hit the freezer, usually 5:45pm, until post-dinner indulgence seemed an eternity.
Fudgsicles were great, there were so many no one else would keep track of the count. I could have more than my fair share! Ice cream sandwiches were another hard one, though. With only six to a box, I knew I had to leave one of the extra two for my sister. She didn't have quite the obsession with treats I had (and still have) so hers would sit in the freezer for d a y s. It drove me nuts. One week was the maximum amount of time I would allow before I would break down and eat it, however, I always gave a casual reminder two days before consumption.
You better believe the first trip to the grocery store on my own included my very own box of ice cream sandwiches. I practically ran through the checkout so I could get home quickly to eat more than my fair share. I even contemplated eating one in the car, but chose to hold out. I decided to test this little sick theory I always heard about. My mother would tell me on several occasions that if I ate too many of any treat I would get sick. I never believed her, eating such goods only made me happy.
After unloading all my groceries, I sat down and ate myself 6 delicious ice cream sandwiches in a row that fine Saturday afternoon. It was glorious. I watched the clock and waited for signs of the flu. I never puked, dry heaved, or even felt the slightest hint of stomach aches.
I must, however, admit it has taken me 10 years and a pregnancy craving to bring me to eat another one since that Saturday afternoon. I am glad this was one of the few times I had to learn something the hard way instead of listening to my mother.
*not my photo