By: Shannon Ralph
Last night for dessert, my kids had vanilla ice cream and Magic Shell. Remember Magic Shell? That uber-cool concoction of chocolate sauce and crazy chemical conjury? Last night may very well be the last time my children get Magic Shell. At least until they are eighteen years old and can purchase their own bottle. Have you ever had the experience of eating Magic Shell with a group of kids? Let me tell you, that stuff should have a warning label. Or at minimum, a rating. NC-17, perhaps.
For the most part, I do not have a dirty mind. I am a fairly unsophisticated person. A simpleton, even. My mind does not immediately shift into the gutter at the mere mention of innocent words that could possibly be construed as vulgar. Weenie? I assume you are talking about hot dogs. Bush? You’re talking shrubs, right. Shag? Oh, you’re getting new carpet. I prefer Berber to shag any day. Dick? Van Dyke? Hump? Where did you see a camel? Are we going to the zoo?
You get my point. I am what people refer to as “slow on the uptake”. I don’t always “get” dirty jokes right away. I like to credit my good Catholic upbringing for my general naivete when it comes to vulgarity. I was in the choir and I played the organ at church for God’s sake! No, not that kind of organ.
Last night, despite my relatively innocent mind, I was “getting” everything my kids said. I was hearing it loud and clear. I am even a bit embarrassed to be typing it here. But, in the interest of perpetuating the good ole’ classic dirty joke, I will share it with you. The conversation around my dinner table last night went a little something like this:
Me: So how do you guys like the Magic Shell? It’s pretty cool, huh? Yummy?
Sophie: Yes, it’s yummy.
Nicholas: I like it.
Lucas: Mine is getting hard already.
Sophie: (whining) Mine isn’t getting hard yet.
Lucas: If you blow on it, it’ll get hard faster.
Sophie: Really? I’ll try it. Pphhphphffft.
Nicholas: Mommy, mine is still soft. Can you make it hard for me?
Sophie: Mine is getting a little hard now. Try blowing it, Nicky. It works.
Lucas: If you’re just patient, yours will get hard, too.
Sophie: Can you feel mine and tell me if it is hard?
Nicholas: You’re right. Mine is getting hard now.
Sophie: Oops. I dribbled.
Lucas: It’s okay. Just lick it up.
Sophie: It gets soft again when you lick it. Cool!
Nicholas: Mmmm…..this is the best thing ever.
Lucas: Ooops. I got a little on your shirt. Sorry ’bout that.
There you have it. My children’s first —and likely last— Magic Shell experience.
Never again will we speak of this. Okay?