I get excited every time I hear the ice cream truck playing its endless song throughout our neighborhood. There’s the rush of anticipation, then the scramble for my purse while I mentally weigh the merits of a Klondike Bar vs a Nutty Buddy vs an ice cream sandwich. I rue the occasional irritation I used to feel when the ice cream truck turned down our street at dinnertime or bedtime. I hope my kids remember me saying yes more than I said no.
These days the truck comes down our street once a week or so. I always say yes. Life is short. Sometimes ice cream for dinner is just the ticket. With ice cream for dessert as well! Choco Taco, anyone?
Puts a smile on my face, just to think of the ice cream truck, a seeming ritual of childhood summers! I do remember well the ding a ling of the truck, and all the kids rushing out onto the street to greet the ice cream man. And the screaming to mom and dad, questioning whether or not they would get the money to pay for a treat. We don’t get that in Franklin now. But I’m glad that these wonderful trucks still exist, and that kids (and grown ups) in so many places get to partake!
One day we’ll have to go out for ice cream (dairy free) after lunch!