When I was younger I can remember going down south to Roseburg to see my Great Grandpa Mac.
Mom and Dad stopped at a place called Rice Hill and we had the best ice cream I'd ever tasted in my young life.
It changed me.
It's one of my very first memories besides being a turd during pictionary at a Thanksgiving family gathering.
So when we went to California over 3 years ago I made sure to stop at Rice Hill!
Lily was the only kiddo awake at the time so we hopped out and grabbed some deliciousness together.
She got birthday cake ice cream with extra sprinkles, gobbled it right up, then talked about it the rest of the 6 1/2 hour drive.
Besides the Jelly Belly Factory, it's her main memory from that vacation.
So of course we HAD to stop on the way back.
Only this time, all of the girls were conscious, and the two biggest convinced me with big puppy dog eyes and super sweet please to get them TWO scoops of ice cream.
The only problem was, I had forgotten just how big the Rice Hill scoops were!
Whoops.
They were the happiest girls around.
This one isn't really old enough to realize she got the short end of the ice cream cone stick.
These two were determined to lick up every last morsel.
Pretty sure they're still full of ice cream.
Oh well, they'll just be extra sweet!
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