Max has this thing about his chocolate milkshakes: He wants three of them, every single time. Long before we get to the ice-cream store, he's reminding us that he wants three milkshakes. Chocolate. At home, when we whip one up in the blender, same thing: "Eeeee!" says Max ("Three!"). I don't see this as a problem, though someday when Max is in his martini phase and Dave and I accompany him to happy hour, downing three martinis at once might be a bit excessive.
We usually hit the Cold Stone Creamery near us at around 6:00 at night. The store's pretty empty then, which is Max nirvana. Max dashes right up to the counter. The guy there says hello. "You want three chocolate milkshakes, right, Max?" he asks, rhetorically, and Max nods happily. He makes one shake and splits it into three cups. Max polishes them all off.
It's not very eco-correct to use three cups, so hopefully this phase won't last forever. Still, we have to hold the cups for Max to drink out of (he has trouble grasping them but insists on them) and it helps that they're not filled to the top. Most important, Max feels totally comfortable at this place and there's never any drama. I'm comforted, too—it's great to have someone behind the counter who knows Max's milkshake habit and who doesn't give me a strange look (or turn me down) about divvying up the milkshake. And the Oreo Creme Filling ice-cream doesn't suck, either.
Do you have a go-to place like this in your neighborhood where your child and family are welcome...and comfortable?
Oh, and if you are a person who takes issue with Max's milkshake habit, refer to The Spaghetti Manifesto and substitute "milkshake" for "spaghetti."