You hear a familiar distant tune wafting through the trees and you freeze, ears pricked. Could it be? You listen a little longer, shushing all your friends around you, and you hear it, louder this time, and you know. You know time is not on your side. You must run with the speed of a thousand horses to your house, tear through the front door and scream, "THE ICE CREAM MAN!!!" while you frantically dash around looking for spare change and dollars. Will you make it?? Will he drive by before you have a chance to choose your delicious treat?? The anxiety builds as you hear the music creeping ever closer. You peek out a window, the truck now visible a few doors up. You quickly count your change and realize you've only managed to collect enough money for a snow cone. It will have to do. As you leap down the steps two at a time, you see your dad standing at the front door holding out a few dollars smiling at you. You grab the money and shout a quick "Thank you Daddy!!" and run, catching the truck just in time, once again.
Am I the only one who had this experience at least once a week in the summers growing up? So much anxiety! It's a wonder I wasn't medicated. A couple of weeks ago the ice cream man made his first trip through our neighborhood and Finley was wracked with the same anxiety of not making it as I was as a child. We heard the truck's song and I scooped her up and ran down the street after him, while we waved frantically, screaming and cracking ourselves up. We made it just in time and I let her pick out whatever she wanted while I took a couple quick pictures on film. She even paid all by herself which was the cutest thing and I think half the fun for her. Well, it actually ended up being all the fun because I'm a terrible mother and forgot to ask if the ice cream had peanuts (which it did of course) so she couldn't actually eat it. Luckily, the Power Puff Girl looked seriously deformed and had crazy white gumball eyes, so Fin wasn't too disappointed. :)