At some point in my life, the shopping center down the street announced that a Cherry on Top would soon be opening. At said point in my life, frozen yogurt was a food group. Many lunches were often replaced by trips to the closest frozen yogurt place to indulge in an icy treat drowning in strawberries and mangos.
Of course, mom did not understand my fascination with frozen yogurt. I liken it to her fascination with ice cream sandwiches, but that will have to wait for another day. She typically eyes every frozen yogurt I devour with disdain.
I anxiously awaited the opening of Cherry on Top, driving by every time I picked up groceries or filled my car with gas. One day, as I drove home from the gym, I noticed the bright beautiful lights that signaled that the time had come. I excitedly filled my cup with some tart frozen yogurt and topped it with as many berries as I could fit in the cup.
I got home and put my yogurt down on the counter, saying, "Mom, I got some frozen yogurt from the new place down the street. You can try it if you want. I'm going to jump in the shower really quick. If you don't want any, just put it in the freezer."
I quickly hop out of the shower and throw some clothes on to come back to my deliciously cold dinner.... and I find that my cup has only one spoonful of frozen yogurt and a raspberry.
"Mom, what happened to my frozen yogurt?"
Hesitantly, she says, "Oh, it was really good."
"I thought you didn't like frozen yogurt. You said it was a waste of money."
"Well, I like that kind. And it was going to melt...."
"Mom, that was my dinner." My eyes are narrower. "If I had known I would have gotten you one too."
"But it was going to melt..."
"You could have put it in the freezer."
"Oh. I didn't think of that."
So now, my mom likes frozen yogurt.