The other day at dinner, we had an interesting little moment. Dinner was over, the boys had been excused from the table, and we were cleaning up.

Then I remembered that we had Heavenly Hash ice cream in the fridge. I love Heavenly Hash.

I asked C to ask his Momma if daddy could have some heavenly hash. He toddled over to her and said "Momma, daddy wants hash."

She said "No" (I’m supposed to be dieting), so he toddled back to me. "I’m sorry, daddy. Momma said no."

What could I do? I collapsed dramatically on to the table in a heap. C was very concerned.

"It’s okay, daddy. It’s okay." He looked back at Momma. "Please? Please give daddy a rash?"

Momma relented. It turns out that she did, in fact, want to give me a rash. I cheered and thanked C. J set about making us all some heavenly hash.

After tasting it, C realized what it was. "MMmmm… I love rash"

I tried to correct him: "It’s ‘heavenly hash’"

"Seventy Rash?"

"Heavenly Hash"

"Heavenly Rash?"

"Heavenly Hash"

"Seventeen Rash?"

"Heavenly Hash"

"Hash!"

Yep. It’s hash – and I love it.