the ice cream truck
Happy September, lovelies!
It really IS still summer and I know this because the ice cream truck is still frequenting our neighborhood right around dinner time. Evil, I tell you! And the little birdie has quite the ear for the ice cream truck soooo, yeah, dinner started out with a green apple-flavored Shrek popsicle last night. Before you go judging my parenting abilities, remember that we’re soaking up the remains of summer here. We’re on a mission, people! Truth be told, I get about as excited as Wren does when I hear the ice cream truck. Partly it’s the thrill of the hunt. We hear it, but can’t quite determine where the awful music is coming from so we begin our frantic, bare-footed search in its general direction. And then we catch a glimpse of it: There it is, I see the ice cream truck!!!, she shouts. We start running toward it, waving our arms and licking our lips, forgetting that the half-melted pops are ridiculously expensive. It doesn’t seem to matter in those jubilant moments. We stand around for a minute or two, letting the popsicle drip down our hands and onto our toes. Quiet except for the sound of the ice cream truck moving on to the next block. Priceless.