A billion years from now, when you have your own children, I really hope you call me up one day and tell me all about how your little ones pitched a fit at you about their ice cream not being perfectly to their taste.
Because on that day, I will listen to you empathetically and I will cackle madly and tell you that you've gotten exactly what you deserve.
Being Seven sucks, but not as much as raising Seven. Look out!
Love and frustration,