The Ice Cream Cone...

M and Z got ice-cream cones to eat on the way to Chris's office today. Z would eat for awhile and then yell that he needed help with "the drips". I would blindly reach back, grab the cone, lick the edges, then hand it back. We picked up Chris and headed for home when Z started yelling again. I reached back and he put the cone in my hand. Sort of. Actually, he had eaten most of the cone. There was about an 1/8 cup of ice-cream balanced carefully on a 1 inch square of cone. I was covered in ice-cream and rolled down my window to toss it out, only the wind blew most of the melted ice-cream back into the car (i.e. my face). Chris was laughing his head off and Z was yelling that he just wanted the cone. So I dumped the ice-cream off the cone, rolled up the window, handed Z the remainder of his cone, told Chris to put a sock in it and dug out the wet wipes. I would love to tell you that I learned my lesson, my kids will never have ice-cream in the car again, but I will not lie to you. I learned no lesson except that I should probably look at what Z is planning to put into my hand before he gives it to me.