I have always judged Saturdays to be the most agreeable day of the week. As a boy, I spent many of them at the Nash Cafe in Tisdale, Saskatchewan, sipping Coca-Cola from a glass bottle while for a nickel, the Seeburg would play our favorite songs. And catty-corner from there was the Falcon Theatre where I enjoyed many a Saturday afternoon matinee. I had a penchant for Westerns and War movies back then that has endured till this day despite my wife’s best efforts to twist my heart toward romantic comedies which I enjoy her enjoying, but give me a good war movie at bedtime, and I’ll sleep like a baby.
But I digress.
As tired as I am by week’s end, Saturday is the only day out of seven that is completely devoid of adult responsibility, outside of parenthood. It’s a day that starts with prayer and then family time. Outside is where we have the most fun and the beach is our preferred destination, unless it’s raining. We also love hiking, unless it’s raining. Or fishing, unless it’s raining. So Florida being Florida, we needed a family activity we could enjoy together, even if it was raining.
I honestly don’t recall which kid it was, me or one of the shorter ones, but somebody came up with the idea of visiting a different ice cream shop each week and seeing which had the best offering. It was a commitment that smelled a bit like work on a day not designed for it, but we agreed that the character-building merits of our collective labor would make us better people in the long run. We unanimously agreed it was a burden worth bearing.
And so that first Saturday, a handful of Saturdays ago, we rose early, ate a hearty breakfast, then lit out in earnest. Made it a family affair which means the three dogs came with us. Some of your more discerning Ice Cream shops provide options for dogs and we felt it was only right to consider the opinion of our canine offspring as well if we were to be thorough.
So far we have learned that two scoops are much better than one. We have also learned that each scoop should consist of different flavors which results in the more sophisticated experience of marrying flavors and even textures at times.
And we
learned that our sweet Emma is incapable of consuming ice cream without applying a respectable layer of it on her beautiful face, while I prefer to store an ample supply of wayward drops on my beard. We discovered Cadence’s creative juices turn from a flow to rushing rapids post-consumption and Cole has proven that virtually every flavor of ice cream he has sampled makes my lame dad jokes infinitely funnier.
And then there is Ana, my beautiful bride. She does her best to example dignity, deportment, and manners, of which hers are impeccable, in an optimistic attempt to refine our presentation when eating in public. I suppose we are doing better at sitting upright and using napkins less sparingly, and please and thank you are now regular visitors to our lips, but due to its tenuous resistance to summer temperatures, eating Ice Cream can be a notoriously messy business. The dogs of course are dogs and one should not expect much from them beyond their abundant sheer joy.
Ana Maria is the anomaly in our group. My beautiful bride could finish a gallon of the messiest ice cream and still be devoid of any physical evidence outside of a contented look and one neatly folded napkin. You won’t find a wayward drip on her face, the table, or anywhere else like an unsuspecting hand or finger. She is an enigma. A sophisticated and cultured woman who knows uncommon things about dining like which piece of silverware does what, and which plate you’re supposed to use first. She has successfully cultivated a respectable measure of etiquette in our children, which fills me with endless pride but I must confess they are much better students than the dogs and me. I was raised in a barn and that’s my excuse. Thank you Ana for your grace, love and endless paitence.
The National Cafe and its Seeburg Jukeboxes are no longer there. The Falcon Theater and Saturday matinees are now as distant as my boyhood, but those memories will always be special to me.
Ice Cream Saturdays, the beach and fishing, and every other second I get to spend with my wife and kids are the richest times, and they are the ones I am most thankful for when I talk to to God. We are building memories, for us, and for our kids, that will endure. And we are shaping their lives with love, laughter, and whatever else God puts in our path.
It doesn’t have to be ice cream. It just needs to be important, and something we commit to that takes priority over the usual distractions. We just picked ice cream because we all like it.
I don’t remember what I was working on four weeks ago, but I know which ice cream shop we went to and what we all had, did, and laughed about. Most importantly, so do our kids. They know we keep our promises and because we do they know they are more important to us than anything or anyone else. And they know they can count on their mom and dad to care about things that matter to them, and that we LOVE spending time with them.
They know that we love them.
As parents, we will all make mistakes. The best we can do is love God, follow Jesus, listen to the Holy Spirit, and raise our kids knowing Jesus. He guides us through every step when we turn to him. And when we do that, even when we make mistakes, our children know they are loved. And if they know that, we can get through anything.
