In Which Mother is a Sucker

Not that this was an extra-special night or anything (that's tomorrow), but perhaps we were celebrating the twins' last day of being 11. Maybe I'll just go with that. I gave in, anyway, when the girls begged for McFlurries after dinner at McDonald's tonight.

The franchise location we were at in Cburg uses kiosks for ordering (yay for removal of people, which would have immediately solved one of the problems in our order in a lot less time, but I digress on my rant against cutting labor costs by using machines over personnel), so we marched to the kiosk for the second time, this time for treats.

I let Youngest choose first. She wanted an M&M McFlurry, and asked for hot fudge topping and regular whipped cream for customized toppings.

I will say this for the kiosks. They let you customize your ice cream treats, whereas the counter staff don't always give you these options.

Middle was next. She selected an Oreo McFlurry, with M&M topping and hot fudge, and regular whipped cream.

I should point out here that the whipped cream comes in three levels: light, regular, and extra. Light and regular runs you an additional 40 cents. Extra costs you a whopping 80 cents more.

I turned to Oldest for her order.

"And now to make you regret the day I was born." She giggled as I tapped the screen to customize her McFlurry (she wanted the Reese's Peanut Butter cup one, which I'd already selected). She grinned at me. "Everything."

I raised a brow. "Everything?"

"Everything."

The twins stood in surprise as I tapped each topping in turn. Caramel. Hot Fudge. Oreo. M&M. Whipped cream...extra.

Hers was the most expensive McFlurry of the lot.

I ordered mine last, a Reese's Peanut Butter cup McFlurry without anything fancy. Then we took our table tent tag back and sat down to wait.

We hadn't been seated long when a couple came over and asked if the girls would like to pet the teeny Chihuahua-Mini Pinscher mix emotional support dog the woman carried. Oldest and Middle enthusiastically agreed, cooing over the little guy, and I came over to say hello too, while Youngest stayed parked on her chair. We spent a few minutes chatting (and marveling over teeny Axl Rose's almost preternatural calm), and then they went on their way.

It was several minutes more before the girls noticed that our ice cream treats were being made, and then the manager came over to inform us she had no peanut butter cups with which to make Oldest's and mine. We both settled on Oreo and we waited some more. Another employee then quickly delivered the twins', followed by mine and Oldest's.

The employee looked hard at Oldest as she handed over the McFlurry, which filled up the entire clear cap with the toppings. "No missing school tomorrow because of an upset stomach, young lady," she said with mock sternness.

"Oh, I won't." Oldest's eyes gleamed like dark chocolate.

I'll say this. For being the one of my kids with the queasiest gyro, high-potency sweets have never seemed to rattle hers.

She's still fine.