Ice Cubes.

My kids just learned how to make ice cubes. Isn’t that shocking? I guess it’s really not, since they’ve only known ice to come out of the freezer door or the cooler for the duration of their short lives. But what a childhood memory not to have! The old metal ice cube trays with that treacherous lever to disengage the cubes? Then the stack of perpetually cracked, mismatched blue plastic trays that had to be filled even though it took forever?

Kids these days.

But I digress. They are here in my workplace with me today, getting into trouble while I struggle valiantly to stay on task with the writing of my stupid-ass portfolio, which is due in two weeks. My workplace is pretty fun – not so much for ME, but for anyone else under age 10 with time to kill on a Saturday afternoon. So the kids are running from place to place (walking is so dull) on some class of mission, and I bust them going into our deep freezer. I assume that they are stealing popsicles, which has been specifically forbidden today. By me. For no reason other than that mommy is a pre-menstrual bitch so NO. They insist that they were not after popsicles, just ice cubes! Sheesh, mom! I told them where to go for ice cubes – in the regular kitchen freezer. Off they ran.

A few minutes later, they ran by again, with a bucket full of ice cubes. I stopped them to ask if it was hard. It was. I asked them what they had done with the ice cube trays, they said they had put them back in the freezer. Empty? Yeah. I directed them to go back and fill them with water before putting them in the freezer.

pause……...................


CLICK!

THE WATER FREEZES INTO ICE CUBES?!

Oh my God, what a world.

*******
I showed this entry to Ellie, and she said it screamed for a photo.
I'm not yet sure about posting photos of my kids,
so I went with an ice cube.






me