It is 8:30 on a Saturday night and I'm having trouble keeping up with the rush of customers. Jenn and I race around in the small space, avoiding each other while we're making sundaes, scooping cones and mixing storms.
I'm ringing a family in just as I hear a scream from the other side of the store, where Jenn is about to hand a little boy his cone of Chocolate Fudge Brownie Indulgence. His chin droops to cover his neck and his mouth appears small next to the cushions that are his cheeks on either side of his face. He looks to be about 8 years old. I look over at the commotion just in time to see his pudgy little feet, clothed in flip flops to slip from underneath him. He has fallen to the floor amidst several other customers that stand nearby, peering at this chubby little child who was so excited at the prospect of receiving his ice cream cone that he loses control of his balance.
Startled, he jumps (or somewhat rolls) back to his feet where he can now take his Chocolate Fudge Brownie ice cream for himself.
All's well that ends well, I suppose.
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