A Portrait of Bad Parenting

Hee. And I'm not even talking about the Angelina moooovie, but the sugar stick in her hand. (Oh, come on, it has REAL fruit juices!)

I have a very good friend, who is a very good mommy, who does not allow her 3-year-old to have sugar. Not even ice cream! (Which is like its own food group in our house. Currently, we have three half-gallons in our freezer, representing the three major kinds: Pink, brown and white.) When her family joined us for Easter, the little guy cracked open an egg with chocolate chips inside, looked puzzled -- what the heck are these?? -- and happily handed them over to Lucy. (Who happily ate every one.) My friend even shakes her head at ketchup! (Like Tip O'Neill!)

So, with her example, I have felt a little bit guilty about the popsicles and ice cream (and mandarin oranges packed in light syrup). My fear is this: Will Lucylu turn into one of those extra-squishy kids that we see at the zoo, huffing up the hill to the elephant house?

Well, imagine my relief to read in the NYTimes that the answer might be yes, but an it won't be my fault! It's in the genes, baby.

With that in mind, we went to Sushi-Zen last night. Lucylu had miso soup with extra tofu, edamame, avocado, and two giant tempura shrimp. (She licked the raw tuna, is that all right??) And then we went to Baskin-Robbins for blue AND green ice cream -- the eponymous "Wild and Reckless" flavor!