In an effort to be solid nutritional role models, Chip and I very rarely indulge in sugary desserts. At least while Connery is awake.
So last night, we we were settling in for some ice cream and Grey's Anatomy (was it just me, or did other people feel as if they had been hogtied and forced to watch Addison's new pilot?) when all of a sudden we hear the pitter patter of toddler feet on the floor. Connery sticks his head out of his bedroom (which is right off the TV room) to find his parents in a panic.
Hide the ice cream! Behind the cat! He'll never see it behind the barely 10-pound cat! Why are we cursed with such a frackin' small cat?
"I heard a kind of clinky noise," he says. "Where's the ice cream?"