I Better Keep the Keys Hidden. Forever.

I've heard there is some sort of rule that says you shouldn't have kids if you're selfish. To that I say PFFFFFFFFFFT. I can totally be selfish and have kids. I can have both. How's THAT for selfish?

That side of selfish comes with a bit of twist, though. A chocolate and vanilla twist and what? You don't stop for ice cream and eat it in your car when you're alone? You totally should. Eating ice cream without tiny hands trying to grab it is the best because then you don't have to make them cry when you don't let them touch your ice cream.

Not that I've done that. Much.

The point is that I had a photo shoot this past weekend, so on the way home I stopped for ice cream. All-by-myself ice cream. Glorious, glorious, all-by-myself ice cream.

And then I forgot to destroy the evidence.

I meant to throw away the telltale cup when I stopped for groceries, but it ended up staying in the car. I think it's fair to mention that normally *I* do not leave food containers in my car, but the girls sure do. At any given moment, you could make a fairly elaborate casserole with their crumbs. The back seat of my car is exactly what you picture when you think about where the good rats go when they die. There's rat hell, which looks like my super clean front seat, and then there's the back seat full of heaven.

SO. MUCH. CRAP.

So how it is that Mila managed to look past the disaster zone and notice that little cup from ice cream settled deep into the cup holder in the front seat, I don't know. But she did. "I want ice cream!" she said as I tried to put her in the car. She batted her eyelashes as she said it, of course.

"There is no ice cream," I replied. NOTHING HERE TO SEE, CHILD.

"It's right there! I see it!" she replied. Which, WHAT THE FRESH HELL IS THIS NONSENSE? How is it that my two-year old is fact-checking me? HOW?

We went back and forth for several minutes. As we debated, Mila decided she would prove her point by refusing to be buckled into her car seat. Instead, she lunged towards the front seat and then muscled her way to the little cup.

Have you ever tried to stop a determined 2-year old? It's much like trying to wrestle a greased up pig, I imagine. It might be possible, but you're going to embarrass yourself in the process.

Because I couldn't stop her, Mila made it to the front seat of the car. She grabbed the ice cream cup, looked inside, and glared at me. "It's empeeeee," she glared. The accusations were implied.

"I told you there is no ice cream," I replied. Full circle! Truthiness! I was about to win!

And then Mila turned in the seat, put her hands on the steering wheel, and said, "We go for ice cream."

I am suddenly very grateful she's too short to reach the pedals.