This May I was thrilled to hear the melodic “ding-dings” of the Ice Cream Man’s bell as he motored slowly down our street for the first time of the season. Piper grabbed her black coin purse and shot out the front door. I stood on the porch snapping away as she studied the ice cream menus posted on the side of the van. Chris joined Piper van-side and I got a great shot of them performing the Ice Cream Man ritual together.
“Summer is here, officially!” I captioned my photo and posted it to Facebook.
That night after bedtime, Chris told me that this year’s Ice Cream Man is creepy. Or creepier than usual. It got me feeling nervous about the rest of the summer. I made a mental note to talk with the kids. I had to reiterate that the Ice Cream Man is a stranger, albeit a stranger with tasty treats. Never approach him without a parent. I was anxious, though, that they wouldn’t heed my advice. One afternoon, before I gave them the talk, I saw Piper’s journal lying open on her bed (formally inviting me to peruse its contents, and I obliged). It said:
May 24 2013.
A few weeks ago I caught the Ice Cream Man. He had a huge wart right under his eye. He was so creepy. Ice Cream People freak me out a lot. I am never running to one without a grownup that I know. I am lucky Dad saw and came outside. I got a Sno-Cone; it was a Jolly Rancher Sno-cone. It was so good.
Nice. That’s one less thing to worry about.