“You are invited,” a tiny hand tediously printed, clutching a pink crayon tightly, “To a Ice Cream Sundae Party.  Three in the afternoon in the kitchen.  Please bring sprinkles.”

Two serious brown eyes studied the invitation, re-reading it carefully.  A lightly freckled nose wrinkled in approval.  With a quick lick of the envelope and folding of paper, the invitation was delivered to Herb Green’s study door with a frenzied knock.  When the serious elder lawyer opened the door with a scowl, there was nothing there.  Just a tiny pink envelope.   Bending down, his frown melted at the careful printing of “Grandpa” across the envelope.  Tearing it open, he read the invitation and smiled, glancing at his watch.  “Agnes,” he shouted, unwilling to stir from his study,  “Do we have sprinkles?”

A few hours later, the serious lawyer who spoke to senators and congressmen daily transformed into a beaming grandfather as he descended the long mahongony staircase and hurried into the marble kitchen.  “Hello, Cherry Belle.”

“It’s 3:15, Grandpa,” his tiny granddaughter informed him sternly, the white bow flopped over the top of her head barely able to restrain her rich chocolate ringlets.  “You almost missed it.”

“Missed what?”

“The Ice Cream Sundae magic, of course!”  Two rows of tiny white teeth winked up at him.  She held out her hand.  “Do you have the sprinkles?”

“Right here.”  He fished them out of his khaki pocket and handed them to her.

“Ok, this is what we do now,” she informed him, leading him to the kitchen table where several stuffed animals and dolls already sat.  In the center were three tubs of ice cream, chocolate, vanilla and praline, his favorite.  Surrounding the ice cream were several bottles of syrup, bags of candy and chocolate chips, a bag of marshmallows, candy bars carefully sliced on plates, crushed cookies and even a box of Fruit Loops.

“Fruit Loops?” he interrupted, raising his eyebrows.

“Shhh!” she said, looking protectively at a well-worn rabbit.  “You’ll hurt Nibbles’ feelings.”

“Well, we wouldn’t want that, would we?” her grandfather said, sitting in the chair she pointed to.  “Why isn’t Grandma coming?”

“Because she knows about the magic,” Cherry Belle said, pushing her bow over her forehead.  “You don’t.  And she says you need it.”

“I’ll bet,” her grandfather muttered.

“So what we do is first we make the ice cream mountains,” Cherry Belle instructed, pulling the lid off the chocolate ice cream.  “You put the biggest scoops you can, so your mountains will be good and strong.”  Sticking out her tongue, she flopped half the container into a bowl bigger than her head.  Just as carefully, she added enormous chunks from both the vanilla and praline.  Her grandfather was scared to look at the calorie information on the containers.

“Then we add the rivers and streams,” she whispered, gushing chocolate syrup over the enourmous mound of ice cream.  Giggling, she added caramel and strawberry syrup, slashing red and brown over the brown and white mass.

“Now, we add the magic!”  Beaming, she shoved some bags of candy at her grandfather.  Before he could blink, she dumped an entire bag of marshmallows and a second bag of M&M’s into the bowl.  “Now you try!”

“Isn’t that enough?” he said, watching as she swept a bowl of crushed cookies into the mix.

“Grandpa, it’s not magical enough yet,” she informed him, exasperated.  “Come on!  You have to have fun!”

Tearing open a bag of skittles, he poured it onto the mass of candy and syrup.  The ice cream was no longer visible.  Sprinkling on a few fruit loops, he grinned and shook the plate of chopped up candy bars into the mix.

“Now get your spoon,” Cherry Belle instructed.  “Ready?”

He picked up his spoon.  “Ready.”

“Close your eyes,” she said, picking up the bottle of sprinkles and flipping open the lid.  “One…two…”  She vigorously shook the bottle.  Rainbow specks rained down, bright specks of color peppering the candy and ice cream mountain.

“Three!”

Her grandfather opened his eyes and gasped.  His kitchen table and all the stuffed animals peering up at him were gone.  Instead, he was standing on a mound of praline ice cream.  Skyscrapers of vanilla and chocolate pierced the sky around him, with a chocolate river burbling noisily to his left.  The ground was peppered with candy, chocolate chips and an occasional fruit loop or marshmallow.  Something soft smacked against his shoulder and he glanced up, surprised to see sprinkles falling from the sky.

“See, Grandpa?”  He turned to see Cherry Belle bouncing on a chunk of Milky Way.  “I told you, it’s magic!”

“How do we get home?” he asked, staring as a gummy bear floated down a stream of cherry syrup, waving at him.  He stopped himself from waving back.

“That’s the best part,” Cherry Belle replied, picking up her spoon.

“Really?”  Her grandfather’s eyes widened as he eyed the mountain of vanilla ice cream to his right.  A grin crept over his face and he shrugged.  Picking up his spoon, he bent over and dug it into the ground before shoving it in his mouth.

Cherry Belle was right.

It was magic.

Stay tuned, Invisible Friends!  We have a week full of whimsical fun coming up!  A new recipe, a new Pemberley Pet Shop, Butterfly Dress, Comfort and Whimsy and more!

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