When I was a kid, my grandmother lived on a ranch in Thrall, Texas, about 40 miles northeast of Austin, and the best part about it was the stockpile of Blue Bell ice cream she kept in the bunkhouse freezer. She’d send me out before dinner, when the sky was streaked with pink and the cows were shuffling restlessly in their pens, and I’d inspect each frosty tub before deciding. She preferred vanilla, but coffee ice cream was my jam, and she was more than happy to indulge this budding little java junkie.
Grandmas are great for that kind of thing – letting kids be kids, not sweating the small stuff, and doing things the old school way just because they can. Sounds pretty great, and I can see why people look forward to it even more than having kids. And why missing out on all that fun would be devastating.
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