No, it's not the Tom Waits song. Although I do, indeed, love that song.
Today, I was sitting in the backyard while the kids were playing in the inflatable pool (in their wetsuits so they wouldn't freeze in the coastal breeze), and all of a sudden I registered a sound--a tinkling, musical sound. I sat forward in my chair and said, "Is that? Oh my gosh . . . "
The kids stopped at looked at me, "What, Mommy, what?" said my quick-to-become-concerned son. I said, "I'll be right back." I ran to the front yard and out to the street, and I'll be damned if it wasn't an honest-to-goodness absolutely for real Ice Cream Truck.
My children have never see an ice cream truck, so I grabbed the wallet, ran to the backyard and said, "Come with me!" They were a bit alarmed, but they were game, so they followed along, barefoot, freezing in the breeze. They were pretty excited, but since they couldn't appreciate the nostalgia of the moment, I'm not sure they were as excited as I was.
I guess the truck's been coming around for a couple of months, but since we've been gone so much, we haven't seen him. He was talking about getting his business license in a nearby town and said it took two months because the official didn't know how to do it: No one had applied for an ice cream truck business license in the town for fifty years.
The boy got an ice cream sandwich. The girl got a Pink Panther ice cream pop. My husband got some kind of crunch thing, and I got shaved ice.
The kids were too cold to get back in the pool.