I scream, you scream, we all scream for ice cream

Roger loved ice cream.
I still love ice cream.
I blame Roger for all the pounds I gained from the ice cream.
But he was so good at "making" it.
Much better at "making" it than me.
Yes, making it.
No, we didn't have one of those fancy schmancy ice cream makers.
He was just better at serving it.
I swear.
It wasn't laziness on my part (most days), just he was really good at it.

I would beg Roger to "make" me ice cream.
He said I could "make" it myself just as well.
"No, you make it better. Please please PLEASE!!"
Insert pouty face here.
"Fine, I'll make in a few minutes"

And he would put it in one of my favorite cups.
And bring me one of my favorite spoons.
It was so delicious.

So today at the grocery store, I decided to buy some ice cream.
I can "make" it I guess.
Well I tried.
Somehow it ended up on the floor, on the counter, and in the sink.
I told him he made it better than me.
I had to laugh but then of course I also reminded him that this was his job.
Not mine.