Days of the Ice Cream Truck...

This afternoon as Burt and I were preparing our evening meal, we heard the melody of "It's a Small World After All." We paused our potato chopping, straining to hear the tune more clearly. "Is that your phone?" Burt asked. The song became clearer and we realized it was an ice cream truck. Burt and I began reminiscing of the days in our youth when the musical trucks sent us into a frenzy to fund our sweet teeth.
As I recall, we kids would run frantically to find Dad. If anyone was going to let us have ice cream it was him. :) Momma, who is a health conscious woman, would run through the list of everything containing sugar that we children had partaken of that day, and then would eventually would come to the conclusion that we did not need ice cream. If Dad was un-found, we would promptly work together to overturn his overstuffed recliner chair. There was always money under there...if we hadn't delved into that secret fund for something else already.
Burt remembers similar circumstances. He recounts, "As soon as I heard the music I would run to the couch, flinging the cushions everywhere, shoving my hands into the crevices where I was almost certain to find loose change, mixed with cat fur, food crumbs, etc. If the couch held no monetary return it was on to the siblings rooms! Somebody would have enough money to buy a red white and blue Popsicle! With money in hand, I was out the door chasing down the ice cream man, and taking every shortcut I knew of to get to him."
Long live the ice cream man!