Right Wing Nation

It seemed like the ice cream truck was following me all over Bellefonte on Saturday afternoon. Everywhere I walked, there was the sound of that tinny carousel soundtrack echoing from the next block over.

We had an ice cream truck related injury at our house one summer. Second oldest boy had some money on him and when the ice cream truck came around, he was ready and ran to get ice cream. Oldest boy made a dash for his piggy bank, scraped together a handful of quarters and was making a dash for the truck. The two met at the front door, with one attempting to go in and the other attempting (frantically) to exit. The ice cream truck got away. The purchased ice cream was dropped during the boy-door-boy collision. There were quarters everywhere. One boy broke his thumb and the other bonked his head and got a good bump on his forehead - and a gash and stitches. It was fun explaining that to the pediatrician on call. Our “I Scream for Ice Cream” moment.