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,