Ice Cream Trucks and Crunch Time



Here we are awaiting the Ice Cream Truck this past weekend. (We is Natá and Mike Hendershot-our neighbors and soon-to-be-tenants, and the McMasters who with their servants' hearts, offered to come and put some elbow grease into our move. And holy cow did they earn their ice cream. Mike says he simply would not have finished everything outside in time without Scott; Dina dusted and cleaned inside like a hummingbird on crack. 1 million thanks, friends.)

Did you have an ice cream truck circling your neighborhood when you were little? (Speak up, Lurkers!)

When we first moved here, M and I were delighted to hear the tinny-tunes of our local ice cream van. How cozy and fun, we thought. Sweet memories of childhood...of rainbow sno-cones (scant syrup), 'mystery grab bags' (remember those?), Push-Ups and how any popsicle from the ICT just seemed to taste 1,000 better than the ones in your mom's fridge?
Memories...light the corners of my mind....but back to the story:


Enter Audrey. Sweet and precious, the apple of her parents' eye. Also a laughably light sleeper. Awakes at the slightest crack of your ankle walking down the hall. Simply cannot sleep through ANYTHING (and yes--we tried everything to change this--banging pots and pans to make the house less quiet, putting her to sleep in her stroller while in public places. Alas, no. Our first lesson in the realistic ratio of Nurture: Nature.)

And then, in the distance, the call of the very same ICT bringing hell on earth to the lives of exhausted and sleep-deprived new parents. 'Please, no. Please, turn the corner--just not down our stree----ah CRAP. Ok, then at least just drive quickly by. But nay--how many times did she park her mobile crack-mobile right outside Audrey's window, tune reeling and reeling while our newborn waled her heart out, having finally just fallen asleep. And so this would go: the early afternoon round, the late afternoon round, and finally, the post-dinner round. Ah, perspective.



As Audrey became a toddler, the ICT still awoke her from naps. But slowly, slowly, it also became a source of amusement for A to hear the tunes coming down the block and she would dance happily as they passed. Until. Until the day that we bought our first ice cream (in her presence) and yes--you guess it: there is no peace once again when the ICT is near. With the hearing of a bat, Audrey jumps up and down--positively SQUEALING with ecstacy that the 'uhm-man' is coming. Obviously, we don't get an ice cream 3 times daily--or even every day. But when we insist 'yes, ice cream is yummy, but none today', she runs pitter patter to the door, begging to at least wave to the driver as she/he passes by.