Ice cream truck.

Have I ever told you about the neighborhood ice cream truck? I can't recall, but if I have, feel free to stop reading. The ice cream truck has become something of a legend (and a joke) in our family. It's like the yeti - one of those things that people have seen but they can't actually get evidence that such a creature exists.

In our case, the ice cream man for some incomprehensible reason drives his ice cream van as fast as humanly possible down our street, seemingly to avoid selling any actual ice cream, something that continues to frustrate our son and perplex and amuse the heck out of the rest of us. A sighting occurs something like this:

We'll hear the jack-in-the-box music of the ice cream van as it begins its trip down our street. Ragsy will brighten - at last, he'll be able to get ice cream from an actual ice cream truck, right in front of his house! But alas, before we make it to the door, we hear the music temporarily peak in volume, then quickly subside. Foiled again! We might see the back of the ice cream truck as it races down the street, then the confused faces of other parents watching it zoom away.

I can't help but snicker. The last time I discussed this with my mom, she said that she was lucky - their ice cream guy was on a bike and the neighborhood kids could easily run him to ground for the privilege of purchasing treats. Sadly, our ice cream man comes better equipped. The ice cream stays cold and plentiful, away from the prying hands of children and the cash of their parents.

Oh, well. Maybe someday we'll get him.