The Ice Cream Man

Dear Love Bug,

You’re obsessed with the ice cream man. We have several that come through our neighborhood, and even though I don’t believe you’ve ever actually gotten a frozen treat from one of them or even have a sense of their inventory, you are incredibly attuned to them. You seem to have superhuman hearing when it comes to them, and you always brightly announce their presence. “The ice cream man!” you shout, usually accompanied by a little dance. 

Today, on our way leaving daycare, the ice cream man passed right by. It must have been the sun that had gone to my head after so many days of not seeing it, but I grabbed your hand, and we chased him down. We ordered a vanilla soft serve with chocolate sauce (these are fancy ice cream men around here–no prepackaged Good Humor bars), and in the blissful afternoon sun, we sat on Ms. G’s front steps while you shoveled it into your mouth. You were so happy that you told everyone who passed by (several parents and Mr. B, Ms. G’s husband) that you’d gotten ice cream from the ice cream man. It was the first thing you said to Daddy when he got home, too. 

Now that you’ve been initiated, I wish you many more opportunities to get your ice cream delivered. And I’ll probably be ordering along with you. 

Love you like crazy, kiddo,

Mamma

On the Town

Dear Love Bug,

Tonight was one of the ones I want to stamp in my memory forever. It’s way too late for me to write about it in as much detail as it warrants, but I’ll give you the highlights. 

Once Daddy got home from work, we loaded you up in your little red covered wagon and hiked down and across town in the most gorgeous spring weather–bright and sunny but coolish and dry–to the Volunteer Fire Department. When we got there, the big lot where the carnival comes every year was already hopping. It was lined with food trucks, buzzing with the sound of generators, and heady with the smells of the most delicious combination of foods, ethnic and not, you can imagine. 

You’d never really been exposed to a food truck before, so you asked if you could get on the trucks and then seemed disappointed that you couldn’t. It was a little hard for you to wait, strapped into your wagon, for our three meals from three different trucks to be ready, but you managed with minimal complaints. 

When we got our boxed-up meals, we went inside the fire hall to meet our friends the B’s, who also live in town. You and Aubrey will be in the same class at summer camp, and her mom and I have been good friends and colleagues since the two of you were born, two months and one day apart (she’s older).  You plowed through your (delicious) pizza, sitting nicely on a folding chair with super-minimal fidgeting. I was very impressed! 

Another family joined us whose son also goes to the preschool where you’ll be headed this summer, and the mom gave me details about the teacher in your room. All of a sudden, it feels like we’ve been welcomed into a community. 

You asked if you could have a treat, and I wanted one, too, so we loaded you back into your wagon and Aubrey into her stroller and we all made our way across the street to the ice cream cottage. We sat outside at a picnic bench while our gorgeous day turned into a sweet, breezy evening, and you and Aubrey diligently worked on your cups of ice cream until you were both covered in it. 

And the miracle of all of this is that we adults actually got to converse while you guys just kind of did your thing. It was amazingly civilized. When it was time to walk/ride back home, you and Aubrey said your good-byes, and you hugged her (kinda), which was adorable despite the awkwardness of her being strapped into her stroller at that point and you going head first at her. I’m just thrilled that you haven’t already made her a sworn enemy like you have with little E at daycare. I have high hopes for this summer–and for more ideal outdoor evenings like this one!

Love you like crazy, kiddo,

Mamma