Year Five:

 Being pregnant, I've had a craving for ice cream that just doesn't want to go away. I'm trying not to gain too much weight – I'm already way over what the doctor's allowing me. So I asked my dear spouse if he would mind finishing up the ice cream in the freezer. He went right to work and took care of it so it wouldn't be there to tempt me. I'll bet this baby will be an ice cream lover just like his dad!

Year Eight:

 I must be losing my mind. I know I bought some ice cream the other day and put it right here in the front of the freezer. But when I went back for a little dish, it was all gone. The kids are too small to reach the freezer door, so that only leaves their father, who simply looks innocent whenever I ask if he knows what happened to the ice cream. I guess I'll have to make another trip to the store if I want some.

Year Ten:

 The entire half gallon of ice cream is gone and I didn't get so much as a single bite. I'd blame it on the kids but I found butter pecan stains down the front of his blue shirt. I can't believe he ate it all, but the container, stuffed back into the freezer with half a teaspoon of ice cream left in it, speaks for itself. I guess if I want any, I'll have to eat it as soon as I bring it home. Ice cream doesn't last more than 10 minutes in this house.

Year Twelve:

 I thought I had a foolproof place to hide the ice cream, but apparently he found it. Who would have ever thought he'd look inside a bag of lima beans? I'd try concealing it in the liverwurst, but somehow I think he's on to my ploy. Obviously, I can no longer rely on camouflage to protect my share of the frozen stuff. Other than buying another freezer or locking the one we have, I think he has me cornered. I wonder if the SWAT team comes out on ice cream hostage calls?

Year Fifteen: OK. I admit. I'm beaten. I really, really thought if I bought him one and me one, it would even out. He'd eat his half-gallon of Butter Brickle and leave mine alone. Besides, he doesn't even really like Chocolate-Raspberry. I know. I know. There's no such animal as an ice cream he doesn't like. He proved that last year when he ate all the Bubble Gum-flavored ice cream I bought for our son's birthday party.

Year Nineteen:

 I've finally found a way to cure him of inhaling ice cream – the Atkins diet. Yep. Ice cream's not allowed on a low-carbohydrate diet, so he can't indulge. In fact, I put a whole gallon of his favorite frozen stuff in the freezer three days ago and it's still there – completely intact. It might seem kind of mean, but it really isn't. Every once in a while the kids want a scoop. And it gives my hubby a chance to test his will power. Come to think of it, this is probably the longest single stretch of time I've had unopened ice cream in the freezer since we've been married. It feels…strange. Like I'm suddenly married to an alien. I mean, the man likes to munch and I know he hasn't given it up, so – what's he eating? Hey. Wait minute! I know I had half a dozen steaks in here somewhere. I saw them just yesterday – right behind the ice cream. And now they're gone. That's really weird.