No other kid was getting this thing, but let me tell you: Nothing hit like a cold malt cup fresh off the Pre-K soccer field after unknowingly scoring an own goal. Sure, the coarse wooden stick could barely break through the solid block of dairy product within, but they say life is about the adventure, not the destination. (The destination was, of course, mouth splinters.) Digging into one of these things is one of my earliest childhood memories, and I stand by this often overlooked delight.