Oh. There’s supposed to be a level at which you are NOT supposed to eat ice cream from the container?
Way back when (as in, back when I could eat ice cream with sugar) my girlfriend and I would each get a pint of flavors we both liked, camp out on her couch watching TV or a movie, and eat our ice cream until somebody said, “Switch!” and we’d trade. We were 20-somethings and in good shape. (Well, she was — she did 5K+ races. I cheered from the sidelines. When we “went jogging together” she would take off, I would amble along at my own pace, she’d get to the end of the course and head back, and then slow down to my speed as I turned around and continued my stumble back home. She said it was good for cooling down.)