Friday, January 06, 2006

I wish, I wish for....

While visiting my parents in sunny Southern California at Christmas the weather was in the mid 80's. So everyday, without fail, the ice cream man made his way down the street and Dylan would start screaming like Eddie Murphy in Delirious. She LOVED the ice cream man.

On the fourth day of our visit, Dylan picked a Dandelion “wish” and said, “I wish, I wish the ice cream man would come to my house.” This will never happen; we live on a dirt road far from civilization. Poor kid. Who knew I could feel such guilt for such a simple thing?


At 10:51 AM, Blogger CarrieB said...

Awwww. Here's a story for you:
The ice cream man pounds our neighborhood relentlessly. In the summer, he drives by, like, every two hours. He does a "last call" drive-by about 8:30 every night too.

When the kids were little (er) and they would hear the ice cream truck's chimes late at night, they'd say, "What's that?" and we would tell them it was the Night Night Truck driving by to let all of the kids know it was time to go to bed.

They actually bought it for about two years.


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