Hanging out on the porch with my sister and Nico, I heard the distant tinkling tune of the neighborhood ice-cream truck.
“Do you know what that is?” I asked my nephew.
“It’s a ice-cweam man,” Nico said.
Then Katy told me the poor kid had NEVER bought a treat from the ice-cream man! We had to remedy that.
We waited at the curb till the truck approached. Nico waved at the driver and jumped up and down with excitement. When the truck stopped, I realized the driver was talking on a cell phone and steering with a cigarette between his fingers. Nice.
Katy, Nico and I checked out the pictures on the side of the truck and debated which ones to buy. Nico and I both chose Bomb Pops, which were significantly bigger than those of my youth.