We were sitting inside watching some cartoons this evening before we put "L" to bed. She had had a long day of movie watching and swimming with her Grandma. There wasn't a nap in site so an early bedtime was called for. We finally had "L" winding down and next thing I know she is jumping up and down on our couch. Now that, for those who may not know, is probably not out of the ordinary for my energetic little girl. She could run laps around me, swim across the Atlantic, and still have energy to run a 3K run. However, the thing that got my attention was hearing the words Ice Cream Man screamed like an Apache war cry!
We had a recent conversation revolving around the Ice Cream Man. (Notice the upper case letters used. That is because he IS the ice cream man. That is apparently his name, no other will do. I am guessing that is similar to Santa.) "L" had noticed that the Ice Cream Man had not been around lately. She had decided that he had been on "bacation" to take ice cream to the other little girls out there. Apparently she has been keeping her ears trained on our street to make sure that she was immediately aware of his triumphant return. Well, it worked!
Once the Apache war cry had settled into my daughter's very own ice cream warbling, I heard the iconic tinkling coming. We live at the end of a street and usually by the time we hear the music he's gone past and we catch him on the return trip. Knowing this my daughter suddenly rushed into a mad dash for her shoes. She grabbed one pink crock and a glittery jelly shoe and tried to put them on as she hopped toward the door. I screamed "Forget the shoes!" and scooped her up on my way out the door. The door was flung open and I was ready to fly down the sidewalk when I was brought up short. The saintly, wonderful, kindly Ice Cream Man was waiting outside our door. He waved at us and was patiently expecting our arrival for our ice cream. We are most definitely "repeat offenders"!
Lorelei picked out a scrumptious looking cookie sandwich. She generously gave me a bite. It tasted as good as it looked. Tim surprised me with an ice cream bar of my own. Mmmm! Nothing tastes like summer better than sitting on our front porch steps eating our ice cream on a beautiful evening. The day was cooling down. The cars were driving by with their music rolling out the windows. Our dogs had their faces smooched up against the window longingly hoping for a taste. It's the stuff memories are made of. I am sure I will always remember these ice cream nights....and the Apache Ice Cream Scream that went with it!