Icy Pops and Summer's End

One of my favorite parts of living within walking distance of a Giant is the fact that my roommates and I are never ever without our favorite summer treat: icy pops.

You know what I mean. Those awesome tubes of yummy deliciousness that inspire nostalgia for summers of yesteryears. I remember as a little girl I'd crunch my way through the top of the pop and then tilt as much of the rest of it I could into my mouth, luxuriating over the joy of the frozen treat sliding down my tongue.

Both Giant and Wal-Mart carry them. You can often buy 50 to 100 of them for a mere dollar or two. We buy them in huge rainbow-colored liquid packs and keep as many piled up in our freezer as possible.

Almost any occasion is worth an icy pop. A marathon of The Big Bang Theory. Ukelele practice. Long conversations about everything and nothing. I'll confess, I often grab a celebratory icy pop after posting a story to Burke Patch.

Throughout the time period of our mutual icy pop obsession though, my roommates and I have found ourselves disagreeing wildly on what flavor is, in fact, superior to the others. These debates have gotten quite heated at time, with one roommate going so far as to compare another's favored flavor to children's liquid medication.

We have taken this seemingly never-ending debate to our social networks on Facebook, without reaching any solid consensus on the top flavor. It seems the vast majority of our friends consider the color of an icy pop to also act as its flavor name, an assumption that caused a roommate to remark, "Who are these people, Willy Wonka? Can they taste the rainbow?" Despite such snarkiness, we have also noted, that in our average conversations we say "purple" instead of "grape" and so on. It must be a common visuals versus taste confusion.

I have gone so far to suggest that we take our debate to the best judge of such things: children. I would love to bring icy pops to a local kindergarten class, under the admirable goal of teaching them about the scientific method and determine which flavor is most superior by judging which one disappears into the sugar-craving maws of small children the quickest.

But then my roommates told me that I was slightly sadistic for suggesting such as a scheme, as neither the students' teachers nor parents would appreciate my generosity in fueling their children with sugary treats. I do still believe the experiment has merit and I would love to bring it to a high school group of any kind if anyone wishes to volunteer for it. It'll be icy pops on the Burke Patch editor, in the name of science!

For now though, I take this debate to you, dear readers. As we near the end of summer, help us try to determine for once and for all, what the best flavor of icy pop is. Humanity will thank you for your contribution to solving this mystery.