Promises matter: how an ice cream drive taught me about trust
This particular day started like that. The baby woke up early and big brother was full of questions, requests, and energy before I’d even had coffee. The washing pile looked like it was multiplying, and everyone needed something from me all at once.
Somewhere between folding washing and mopping, I said it:
“If you let me finish cleaning, we’ll go for an ice cream drive later.”
It was one of those promises you throw out as a lifeline part bribe, part survival strategy, and part desperate hope for ten quiet minutes in the car.
But by the time the house looked semi-livable and everyone was dressed (more or less), I was done. Physically tired. Mentally tapped out. Emotionally… not in the mood.
I didn’t want to go. I didn’t want to leave the house, strap kids into car seats, or wait in a line for sticky cones. I just wanted five minutes of peace.
And if I’m honest, I didn’t want to be held accountable.
Because it had happened before. I’d once promised we’d go to the park to play a game of soccer. He’d been so excited he even set up the ball and started practicing his strikes between a make-shift goal post between two water bottles. But the day got away from me. I was tired, it got too late, and I said, “Not today.”
I thought he’d forget. But he didn’t.
He brought it up the next day. “Remember, Mommy? Remember? (ever sassy)…You said we were going to the park to play soccer.” There was no tantrum. Just quiet disappointment. And that stung more than any meltdown ever could.
So this time, when he looked up at me full of hope, ice cream on his mind, I saw it. That same trust in his eyes.
And I knew I couldn’t break it again.
So I pulled myself together, packed the baby bag, buckled them both into the car, and off we went for that ice cream drive.
The baby was content. My six-year-old was beaming. And between licks of chocolate, vanilla and caramel, he said, “Thank you, Mommy. This is the best day of my life.”
And right there, with sticky fingers and face combined with melted ice cream on my jeans, I was reminded:
It’s not just about the treat. It’s about showing them that your word matters. Those promises, no matter how small, are sacred in their world.
tracy-lynn.ruiters@inl.co.za