Ice cream, and Adulting

I’m eating ice cream. Ben&Jerry’s Cookie Dough to be exact. It is my childhood bliss in a pot. Not because we had cookie dough ice cream but because ice cream was for summer days and special treats and when my mum baked she always let us scrape the bowl and eat it. Somehow that was the best bit, maybe because each time I was convinced that I had not behaved well enough to deserve it. (This is a reflection of my own insecurities, rather than any parenting.) So maybe this is me pretending not to adult.

The ice cream is back in the freezer, replaced by a cup of peppermint tea. There’s clothes in the washer and the dryer, the washing machine is on. I have even spent 15 minutes in a half hearted attempt at teaching Doodle to roll over on command. But it’s a party trick, a way to keep her entertained and show off my “dog trainer cred” (that would be the dog trainer cred I don’t have), and she’s only in it for the treats.

Sometimes (all the time) I’m like that. Convinced that this thing I’m doing is only a party trick, not actually useful in real life. I’m not convinced, so I’m only in it for the treats. Or at least, I need to know there will be treats somewhere along the line. Ice cream in the freezer. Peppermint tea. Random conversation about nothing.

Maybe that’s all being an adult is. Doing the party tricks so we can have the treats. Of course, as any good dog owner knows, the point of training the dog is not so you have an excuse to give them treats, but to build a relationship between you so that the dog will obey without the treats.

Or so I am told.

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