Call of Music

My youngest and I are sitting on the front porch.

Suddenly, she perks up. "Mommy, mommy! I hear the ice cream truck!"

Wikipedia: Jack and Jill Ice Cream Truck in Kentlands, MD, USA

That noisy ice cream truck! Luring the children. A great sales pitch. (Talk about "pitch"!) Ice cream truck drivers don't need to say anything...the music does the sales pitch for them.

I look at her and shrug, "I don't hear it." Yet.

"Mommy! Please!?!"

I am wondering how far away it is. How far can she hear it? If she can hear it, then why is it that she doesn't always hear me when I ask her to do things? Selective hearing. Hmm. I need to get a CD with ice cream truck music. Maybe I can get the kids to listen to me when I expect something to be done. (Ha!)

I reply, "We have popsicles in the freezer."

"I don't want that kind. Pul-eeeeze, Mommy!?!"

"I still don't hear it. It may not even go by our house."

"If I use my money, can I go and get some?"

I really don't like to have the kids get ice cream from the ice cream truck all the time, especially when we have some in the freezer. I do cave in and let them have it, but mostly when they have their own money.

I sigh, "Okay."

I can now hear the ice cream truck. It is about two blocks away.

I watch a pair of blurred legs run towards the corner of the street. I watch her waiting for the truck to stop near her. I watch her talk to the driver. Money is exchanged for an ice cream treat.

I watch her walk back towards the house, happily licking her purchase.

Glitter Graphics

When was the last time I really enjoyed what I was eating? Food is the enemy. Too fatty. Too many carbs. Too many calories.

Ah, you are only a child once.

I ask her if I could take a bite. Now I am smiling, relishing the flavor, fat and calories and all.

Heck, you only live once.