Today my daughter opened her favorite chocolate ice cream, the same one she eats almost every day after school.

We were speechless. The first thing that crossed my mind was: how had it gotten there? Perhaps at the factory, when the cones were being filled? Or, even more frightening, had it arrived after packaging, frozen in the sugary mass?

We were disgusted and scared. My daughter couldn’t look at the ice cream for long; her hands were shaking. I immediately took a photo of the find and filed a complaint with the manufacturer.

From that moment on, the mere thought of eating ice cream gave me an unpleasant feeling. Because you never know what’s hiding under that perfectly smooth layer of chocolate…