~ Sno Cones ~

All of my attention was hyper-focused on something terribly stressful, like trying to get the last bit of sun-melted saltwater sticky taffy off of it’s waxed paper wrapper, when I vaguely heard the music from the local sno-cone truck.  I also vaguely remember both of my kids running to My Captain, hearing the dangle of change from his pocket, and then the sound of the doors of Pop-pop’s little cottage, where we were vacationing for the week, slamming.

Moments later, when I finally surfaced from the wax paper task, and had hidden any evidence of it thoroughly, I realized the cottage was awfully quiet.

I worried, as any good mama would do, and set out to find my two most likely mess-makers.  I got as far as the garden porch, when I spied this:

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Aw!  Critter and Varmint are so like their mama, equating summer with excessive sugar consumption!

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Whatcha doin’ guys?

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Tasting rainbows, mom.  Ever tasted a rainbow?

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Can’t say that I have darlins!

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They taste an awful lot like one of your kisses, Mom.

Pardon me, friends, while I melt into putty that would fit in the palm of my children’s hands.

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