Ode to a purple cow

During the end of my pregnancy with Lily I remembered my favorite treat from my childhood summers. We used to go to this family camp every year and we’d hike into town one day to the soda shop. I would always order the same thing: a purple cow. It’s a very simple treat, just a float made from vanilla ice cream and grape soda. I looked forward to that trip every year and would just about lose my mind with joy if we made it up to Julian (the little town) on an additional trip, begging my dad for a stop at the soda shop. My parents were wise enough to keep the recipe from me and fostered my belief that this was only place a purple cow could be had. Smart parents. I only felt slightly betrayed when I realized how simple this wonderful treat really was to make.

While pregnant, I never once sent Mark out in the evening for a craving until this memory flooded back. I sent him out at 9pm (a totally respectful hour to send your husband to the store, might I add) to fetch me the needed ingredients for my craving. I had one every night for the last trimester. Who’d a thunk my baby would end up having a dairy allergy and I’d have to cut ice cream out of my diet after she was born.

It’s a lovely perfect thing that my pregnant self just seems to need. I don’t have them when not pregnant and it only seems to be a third trimester craving. I’m guessing there is some deep psychological meaning to all of this. Rather than analyzing it too much, I’m just going to enjoy a delicious glass of ice cream and grape soda. Cheers.