“Hi Kyle,” her daughter gushed.
Suddenly she understood why her lactose intolerant daughter wanted to check out the new ice cream parlor.
“Rocky Road, please,” she then said, “if that’s okay.”
Polite? Shy? Who was this shrinking violet and what had they done with her insolent teenager?
“No problem, girl,” Kyle said with a wink and a smarmy smile.
He pushed the scooper into the frozen tub of Rocky Road and for ten minutes they watched him struggle.
She didn’t think she’d enjoy silently mocking some 16-year-old boy. She thought she was too mature, too grownup.
She smiled.
She wasn’t.
The Weekday One Hundred 