…is hearing the ice cream truck coming down the road,
I’ve always loved bomb pops, ever since I can remember. I don’t know if it’s the cool, juicy, tri-flavored fruitiness, or the whole Captain America patriotism that the red-white-and-blue elicits.
Whatever it is, I love them, and when I hear the ice cream truck, I book it down the driveway like the kid-at-heart that I am and eagerly wait my turn, handing over the pile of coins I just dumped out of the coin jar in haste, ripping open the packaging before I even cross the street. I’m 40 years old, and the neighbor had to caution me to watch for cars as I crossed because I obviously was paying way more attention to my lovely popsicle than I was to the on-coming traffic.
And so, a perfect ending to a beautiful summer day.
It’s the little things…know what I mean?