I couldn’t have been more than five. The television in my uncle and aunt’s small den that was sitting upon a wooden chest was much taller than I. I sank into the dark sofa in the room that was only lit by the television. My aunt, like a fairy godmother, brought treats throughout the movie and then would quietly exit the room. I slowly walked up to the screen with a cup that felt cold, a spoon handle stuck out from inside the cup, as I tried to see what I had been tasting for the last couple of minutes. It was green. Like the face of the wicked witch from the Wizard of Oz. Small speckles of chocolate chips were swirled and dotted throughout. It was ice cream, mint chocolate chip. It became a favorite from then on.