The introduction to the ice cream man tradition, in my family, started almost 20 years ago when I was just a babe.
The story goes: My grandmother used to refer to the ice cream truck as the "music truck" to my cousins and I. It was her thing, and she got quite the kick out of it. That is until June 6th 1995, when my uncle changed its meaning forever by happening to allude to the "music truck's" precious cargo. Ahem, i mean, the ice cream truck.
Of course my grandmother wasn't too thrilled about her charade being blown, but lucky for me (I was the only kid present at the time) I got my first shot at the ice cream truck's goodness.
Thus the moment was cast in infamy and when my cousin Harley was born 19 years later, we all knew the time would come when it was my turn to continue the tradition just like his momma and daddy had done for me.
It was an adventure. The ice cream man around here drives a bit fast and his music plays pretty low so it creates quite the conundrum to get his attention in time for him to stop. We had heard the truck earlier in the day, but by the time we had registered the classic ice cream truck tunes, it was already down the street. So we waited, hoping we would get another shot later in the afternoon.
Again a few hours later my aunt heard the faint tunes, which sent me running out of the house, bare foot, and flailing my arms trying to catch his attention in the rear view mirror as he continued to drive down the street. Thankfully the neighbors across the street and down two houses came bursting out of their front door right about the time I did and were able to grab his attention. My goodness, who knew it would be so hard to get an ice cream truck to stop.
Sticking with tradition we went with an ice cream complete with gumball eyes, this time the character being Spiderman.
The Goob wasted no time digging into that sucker, obviously because we like food. A lot.
The sun didn't waste any time beginning the process of melting that frozen sugary goodness, either.
We were sticky and stained with the red-blueish-purpley evidence.
It was a glorious 5 minutes. I say 5, because 1) he isn't quite yet 2 and 2) he had things to do, bubbles to blow. and veggies to watch. duh.
Ice cream takes its toll, as you can see on the face above. Its good, but man it takes some energy to consume so much sugar.
I was blessed beyond measure to be apart of this moment and to share in the stories that were and are soon to come. He's a miracle baby with an awe inspiring story and I couldn't imagine a more perfect day to make these memories. If grandma was still around, she would have stood by her "music truck" story and taken pride in her grandchildren's joy in the simple things with a camera in hand.
I believe life's grandness is found in the smallest moments, I am so thankful for this summer and the opportunities to soak those moments in.
ps. the top photo was taken June '95, while the bottom was taken July '14. It was an accident-on-purpose that both Harley and I were about the same age when each photo was taken. Nifty, right?
Also, Ice cream trucks haven't changed much in 20 years.
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