So after the pizza, we got frozen yogurt.

There’s been some debate over whether pizza technically qualifies as junk food. I suppose not. (And I forgot about Annabelle’s cotton candy when I wrote that, so the weekend was shot, in any case.) You can argue about the relative health merits of fro yo, as well. It’s 1984 all over again, with the frozen yogurt craze. (I can’t stop thinking of that Seinfeld episode, when they find out the non-fat really isn’t.)

Back to the evening. Sophie chose chocolate with no topping, as always, and Annabelle tried a very bright orange, dressed with gummi bears. Both girls tried to avoid spilling on their dresses, but Annabelle did get a bit of orange on hers. I grabbed some ice from my drink and dropped it onto the dress, holding the fabric in my hand so it would melt (not hard, it was 110 here Sunday), hoping to at least dissipate the stain a bit.

I was so focused on the dress that I didn’t notice what was going on right next to me. Sophie had finished her yogurt, then turned the cup upside down and spattered her dress with chocolate.

“Sophie! Why did you do that?!” I asked, already knowing the answer.

“So you put ice on it!” 

Fresh from an Elvis appreciation lesson that afternoon, thanks to satellite radio, Annabelle belted out a most appropriate lyric:

“Little sister don’t you do what your big sister done!”