I was sitting here on the computer this afternoon, hard at work while the baby was napping. Actually I was goofing off on facebook, but I figure that's a given. Suddenly from outside I heard the sound that parents everywhere quickly learn to dread : the ice cream truck jingle. Now the song may vary, but the sound is so distinct as to draw kids from every corner of the neighborhood with just one chime - it's like a dog whistle for anyone under age twelve. I had never heard an ice cream truck drive around our new locale, and until this moment had been thanking my lucky stars.
The jingle continued to crank out as the truck wound its way around the outer circle of houses, before swooping into our little cove. Then the music stopped traveling as it lured in some unsuspecting adult. I walked to the window to see what poor schmuck had been hounded into patronizing the ice cream man, prepared to have a good snicker at their unfortunate fate.
Too bad it was my husband.
Yes, it is February. Yes, we live in Florida. Yes, she's in a swimsuit.
I don't know what this one's story is.
I hope he knows the ice cream man is like a seagull : feed him once and he'll keep coming back.