It was an emergency or I never would have ventured to Waldbaum's at 4 p.m. on a Friday afternoon. I had gotten home early from work and feeling the urgent need for ICE CREAM, I made a beeline for the freezer. With eager anticipation, I pulled out the quart of Edy's chocolate that we keep on hand for these stressful times.

Now, I knew we had eaten our way through most of the quart, but optimist that I am, I reasoned there had to be enough ice cream left for one more serving. Wrong. When I pried the lid off, there was barely a teaspoon of ice cream left. Then I spied an empty dish on the counter with a telltale chocolate stain.

Instantly, I knew what had happened. After I fell asleep last night, Gail had sneaked downstairs and had finished off all but that one little teaspoon of ice cream. Truth be told, when I headed for the freezer, I was glad Gail wasn't home from work yet, because ... well, just because. And now, I realized with dismay, she had beaten me to it.

What's a person to do? Do we suffer the slings of such outrageous fortune or do we take matters in to our own hands and by initiative and guile change our luck for the better. The answer was obvious.

In just a matter of minutes, I stood in front of the freezer case at Waldbaum's thoughtfully eyeing the selection of frozen delights. As I contemplated this important decision, I couldn't help but notice a young mother, of Asian descent, and her five-year-old son who were also scrutinizing the ice cream selections.

The little boy reached for the carton he wanted only to be told by his mother that there was another brand on sale. As you might imagine, sale or no sale, this young child knew what he wanted and was not going to be persuaded by the mere matter of thrift. Gently, but firmly, his mother took out the ice cream that was on sale and put the other container back.

Immediately, the child unleashed the tried and true weapon that children have used on their parents for uncounted generations. "I want that one!" he whined. The more his mother denied him, the louder the child's whine became. "I want it; I want it, I want it!" he insisted.

Now, none of this conversation took place in English, but you didn't have to be a United Nations translator to figure out what the boy was saying. He was speaking the universal language of a child intent on getting his own way.

I recorded his words and tone in my memory bank, thinking they might come in handy the next time I go shopping with Gail.