Ice cream truck!

One of my fondest childhood memories is each summer, hearing the strains of "Pop Goes the Weasel" float through the open windows, alerting me to the ice cream truck making its rounds. I would drop whatever I was doing, run out of the house barefoot, screaming for someone, anyone, to throw me a dollar on my way out! I would barrel down the driveway and jump up and down on the sidewalk like a lunatic, waving my arms to flag down the ice cream truck.

Once the truck pulled over I'd take my time perusing the colorful, yet sun-faded ice cream labels that plastered one side of the truck, reading each one carefully...Rocket Pop...Chocolate Taco...Big Boy...the exercise was simply for pleasure because I chose the same thing every single time! I always got a Strawberry Shortcake because I loved the strawberry-flavored cream filling and crunchy puffed rice bits on the outside.

This evening I had the pleasure of taking Cruz through this rite of passage for the first time:


This is one of those times when being a parent completely takes you back to your own childhood and the joy that comes from the simplest things.