When I was a little girl, often times we would have ice cream before bed.  We always had New York Vanilla - which is way better than regular vanilla.  Don't let anyone tell you different.  My dad would scoop the ice cream into the little orange and white striped plastic bowl, and I would look up at him with pleading eyes.  Pretty sure I didn't have to say anything, he would just take my bowl, and mix it up to the perfect consistency.  Not too clumpy, nor too runny.

Never have I ever told Harper this story, yet every time we have ice cream, she gives me this look.  And I take her bowl, and mix it up.