BB's Best Day Ever

The new fridge arrives at 7.45 a.m.
It's Saturday morning, and our modest lie-in is shattered by the brisk clank of the doorbell.
FH scrambles out of bed, pulling on clothes and stubbing his toe in the dark, while, in the next bedroom, two boys (awoken by the bell) start to whoop and holler.

I manage to slip into their bedroom just before the front door is pinned back and the gigantic object is heaved into our narrow hallway, closely followed by two sturdy, overall-clad specimens of virility.

"What's happening, what's happening?!" BB clamours excitedly, scooping up teddy and making a bolt for the door.
"It's the new fridge," I yawn, misty-eyed. This is what you get for refusing to set foot in a home improvement store (or whatever they're called) and demanding door-to-door delivery.
LB, who waits for no man or fridge, demands his milk.
I settle him down with a bottle (he is like a mobile phone whose battery must be recharged instantly every morning - the very second you flick him "on": failure to do so results in a very piercing and persistent alarm bell).

Once the milk has duly reached its target and revitalised the youngest member of the clan, we are able to proceed as one into the kitchen, where the new fridge stands tall, almost regal in its splendour.
Wow.
It suddenly becomes apparent that we have been surviving with a very, very small fridge all these years.
The four of us contemplate the beast, wide-eyed and slightly intimidated.
"It's big..." BB observes, in quiet wonder.

Turning our attention away from the mega-fridge, we suddenly notice that every square centimetre of surface space is occupied with fresh food: the entire contents of our old fridge (which has been abruptly unplugged and taken away by the same sturdy men who delivered the beast to our kitchen. Such is the harsh reality of life: survival of the fittest).
We are facing a pile of yoghurts, two bottles of milk, some cheese, and an assortment of other foodstuffs that must somehow make it through the day until the new fridge can be plugged in (in case you didn't know - I didn't, needless to say: you have to wait 12 hours before plugging in a new fridge, to let the liquids settle, or something).
No matter: it's still cool enough outside to transform the garden into a temporary fridge.

But. There's something else.
At the same moment, all our eyes settle upon a half-filled box. A pale yellow container with a flower on top. An innoccuous little box containing something that will not survive the day, even if placed outside.
Something that must be either sacrificed and left to melt... or else consumed at once.

Ice-cream for breakfast.

This is BB's Best Day Ever.