The Last Ice Cream Truck of Summer
I meant to post this the evening it happened, but it slipped my mind.
It was three or four weeks ago, on a weekday. I'd just gotten home from work, and Sebastian ran out to see me as I got out of the car. Teri followed.
As I picked him up I heard a familiar sound: the music of an ice cream truck, down at the other end of the street. Sebastian had never yet been to an ice cream truck, although he knew what they were.
So I checked to see if I had a few bucks in my pocket and asked him if he'd like to go get some ice cream. The answer was "YES!", of course. So I started walking down the street to the truck.
We got to within 100 feet of it when it started up and drove over to us. "What'll it be?" the driver asked. I feared Sebastian would take too long looking over the pictures of various ice cream bars, but I was wrong: "DORA!" he shouted with delight. So we got a Dora ice cream bar (or rather, "frozen confection") and walked slowly back to the house on that beautiful late-summer evening.
It was three or four weeks ago, on a weekday. I'd just gotten home from work, and Sebastian ran out to see me as I got out of the car. Teri followed.
As I picked him up I heard a familiar sound: the music of an ice cream truck, down at the other end of the street. Sebastian had never yet been to an ice cream truck, although he knew what they were.
So I checked to see if I had a few bucks in my pocket and asked him if he'd like to go get some ice cream. The answer was "YES!", of course. So I started walking down the street to the truck.
We got to within 100 feet of it when it started up and drove over to us. "What'll it be?" the driver asked. I feared Sebastian would take too long looking over the pictures of various ice cream bars, but I was wrong: "DORA!" he shouted with delight. So we got a Dora ice cream bar (or rather, "frozen confection") and walked slowly back to the house on that beautiful late-summer evening.
