Impluse Buying with a Twist

Mini-Husband bounced into the house yesterday after school and asked, "Can I have some of that cookie-doo?"

Cookie-doo? Here's a new one.

"You know. That ice cream you bought."

Ah, yes. Cookie Dough! Ben & Jerry's Cookie Dough.

And being the super mommy that I am, as well as trying to convince my people that lots of good things come from the United States besides pancakes, I indulged him.

I had forgotten how much I love this stuff. How fabulous that visit to the ice cream factory in Vermont was and how easy it is to stick your face in that container and just go for it. Look at that joy and rapture on his face as we polished off that pint! (Perhaps it is a good thing Ben & Jerry's is hard to find over here.)

I had been worried that the Chocolate Fudge Brownie and Phish Food wouldn't be as well loved as the tride and true Cookie Dough, but dinner at friends a few weeks back solved that little problem. The French know a good dessert when they eat one!

Every so often, when I'm wandering around in a daze the grocery store, I see something. Could be just a bottle of Head & Shoulders shampoo, Belgian made Skippy peanut butter or Old El Paso Salsa, but I start getting all giddy for something that reminds me of chez moi. Something I can share with the tribe in hopes of bribing them to admit they are American.

Mini-Husband is normally the worst of the lot. He's convinced he's more British than Grandma and Grand-dad. But, alas! I think I have found a very valuable American negotiating tool with this old Cookie Dough ice cream.

From the bottom of my star spangled heart, thank you, Ben and Jerry!