Ice Cream Man

So, we got dumped with snow again this week. The totals in the North East have already exceeded the average winter and it's still January. Which got me thinking about summer. Which got me thinking about the ice cream man. I remember watching Eddie Murphy (it was either Raw or Delirious, I don't remember) do a bit on what the ice cream man is like to a little kid. The panic that sets in. I remember thinking it was really funny. ICE CREAM MAN! Eddie was the king back in those days. Then I didn't think much of it. Until last summer. Boy and I are in the backyard playing baseball. Then we hear the distant bells of "the Entertainer" playing. Time stops. Boy drops his baseball bat at his feet. His head looks up at me and his eyes bulge. I swear I see his pupils dilate. The panic. Animal instinct takes over. ICE CREAM MAN! He sprints into the house. Now, I love the ice cream man. I'm not actually a huge ice cream fan, I just love the idea of the truck. It brings back memories of youth and good times. A bunch of years back, we had rented a big house on the Cape with a bunch of friends. We hear the ice cream man coming and I sprint out of the house to make sure I get there in time. I'm in my mid-twenties at the time. I look around me and it's all kids. Bikes are scattered along the side of the road. I get to the front and I order something like 10 Chipwiches. The 8-year-old standing next to me looks up and says "good order". I well with pride. So fast-forward to this summer. Boy runs into the house, grabs a butter knife and goes upstairs to his piggy bank and he is trying to pry open the plug on the bottom. He's shaking. He can't get it open. He goes looking for his wallet. He can't find it. Boy, I got you covered. He seems relieved, but we're still in crisis mode. Will we miss the truck? Will the truck take a last-minute detour down the wrong side street? He looks out the front door. We're still OK. He opens the door and barrels down to the end of the street. I can't keep up. Now, to a small child's eyes, the side of an ice cream truck can be daunting. It's an assault on the senses not unlike walking through Times Square. There are all varieties of things on sticks, sandwiched between cookies, dipped in chocolate, in shapes of feet, or with Spongebob all over the packaging. We don't have much time until we're at the front. He's deciding between about 5 different things. We're up. Rather than lament any more, he asks which of his possibilities is the largest. He goes with that. A respectable decision-making process if you ask me. It's a giant, 8-inch watermelon pop on a stick. Flourescents of green and pink. He downs the whole thing and runs around for about an hour. I hose him off. Then he goes inside and takes a nap.