We've got one of those ice cream places that will combine their posh ice cream with a choice of "mix-in"- candy or nuts or fruit or whatever. For years my standard was the dark chocolate with fresh strawberries. Yum.
Right now they're offering unlimited mix-ins. That's a dangerous challenge, my friends.
I reminded the teens that they would be eating whatever they ordered, so they should consider their choices carefully. Beyond that, well, there's only so much guidance I give on ice cream. (Also, I was distracted with my own discernment process.)
Seen here-my son's combination of peanut butter ice cream, with M&Ms, Peanut Butter Snickers, chocolate chips, Snickers, Oreos, and peanut butter. It was delicious, but far more than he had imagined. And all the room-temperature toppings meant that the ice cream was melting faster than he could eat it.
(His brother was a little more strategic- he got red velvet ice cream with strawberries and raspberries. More manageable, but he looked like his own slasher flick by the time he was done.)
It would be awesome if we truly could have a bit of everything in life. But sometimes there's a clash, of tastes or values or timing.
Sometimes the full array of toppings or interests just cannot fit into your cone or your life. When we make that misstep, if we're lucky we can figure out the most graceful way to do some decluttering. Not that it is easy to renege on something we've agreed to, or even just to set aside something we were really looking forward to. But when we're less lucky, something topples. Then it's a matter of damage control and trying to regain composure and a certain sense of humor and perspective.
We learn these lessons mostly through awkward experience--without a previous curdling incident, can we believe someone else when they suggest that mint ice cream might not work well with strawberries? And don't we all have our love affairs with the idea of unlimited, thumbing our noses at the idea of limits?