In keeping my promise to post something once a week, I decided to use today’s daily prompt by WordPress since I don’t have a topic that I’m dying to write about.

Today’s word is Childhood (which explains the photo of Kermit, but this post is not about Sesame Street, okay?)

Earlier this evening I was just discussing favourite soft serve flavours with The Husband while we each enjoyed a cup of froyo at the basement of a local mall. The Husband is fond of an artificial blueberry and vanilla flavoured soft serve that he associates with gloriously warm Swedish summers that were (and still are) always too short. (In case you’re wondering: I have tried the soft serve; it’s very blue and, yes, rather artificial.)

My favourite childhood flavour is Yami Yogurt’s honeydew. To be honest it tastes nothing like fresh melon, but I love it.

The moment its icy-tart-sweet-froyo-goodness touches my lips I am transported back to the time I was six, or maybe five, or seven.

Back then, a super Saturday (or Sunday) was about getting treated to Yami Yogurt after a delicious dinner at our neighbourhood mall. The Yami Yogurt booth was located near the game arcade – paradise in my six-year-old eyes – and I knew that if I begged hard enough, our parents would relent and give us the change from the Yami Yogurt purchase and half an hour to spend at the arcade. Then, our evening would go off-the-charts perfect.

As the youngest child I got away with many things. Unlike my two elder sisters, I did not bear the weighty responsibility of looking after “the small one” (one of my many nicknames), and I never had the need to set a good example.

When I misbehaved under my sisters’ watch, they took the shit rap, because they were older, they were in charge, and they were supposed to know better.

I was really quite a rascal.

Luckily, I grew out of it – mostly! – when I began to understand what a pain I was, and just how much trouble I got my siblings into. Thankfully too, my sisters still love me as they always have.

This is a part of my childhood that I’ll probably always remember – the good ol’ days when my sisters and I shared a large tub of Yami Yogurt in honeydew flavour. We would stab away greedily at the melting soft serve, digging faster than we can swallow, because everyone wanted her more-than-fair share of its icy-tart-sweet-froyo-goodness.

That good ol’ taste.

There was that – and we also had only 28 minutes left at the arcade. Tick tock, tick tock. No time to waste!

Photo of Kermit with Snow ball: LoggaWiggler



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