I Scream, You Scream

People tell you childhood years fly by and encourage you to enjoy the fleeting days of Christopher Robin and Pooh. I know I’ve tried, but in my mad-cap rush to get things done and race through my to-do list, entire days disappear in a blur of activity – I’m inexplicably proud of the fact that I can band aid a boo boo, clean up spills, make snacks and text a friend all at the same time. Then, like you, I catch myself operating at warp speed and vow yet again to simply slow down. But have you noticed that when you pause long enough to catch your breath you practically get run over by all of the other people who are in a frantic, pointless rush?

Case in point: last weekend I was lying by the pool dozing when I found myself suddenly humming the familiar but nearly forgotten strains of “Pop goes the Weasel.” It took me several moments to realize the tinkling tune that had invaded my consciousness was actually coming from a rapidly-approaching Ice Cream truck. The realization spurred me into action since I knew I had only moments before I heard my children’s stampeding feet as they came at me bug-eyed with arms waving, shouting: “MOM! it’s the EYE! SCREAM! TRUUUCK!

As I scrambled to find my wallet, my daughter’s sense of urgency was almost amusing as she raced from the front yard to the kitchen and back again. “Hurry mom, he’s going to leave! Hurry, he says he’s not going to wait!” I looked at her with a knowing smile. “Of course he’s going to wait – he saw you come in to get money,” I said reassuringly. “No!” she shouted. “He said he couldn’t wait – he’s going to leave. HURRY!”

Catching the wave of her panic, I rushed outside and sure enough, the ice cream truck had made a U-turn and was pulling down the street, away from my now nearly hysterical daughter. I rushed after it, money in hand, and thanks to a good rear view mirror he stopped. But when we got to the order window he actually looked annoyed with us, drumming his fingers impatiently as the kids decided what they wanted. Was there an ice cream truck driver’s convention I didn’t know about? Some unknown mileage quota to meet? Isn’t the job of driving an ice cream truck supposed to be inherently leisurely? I mean by anyone’s standards this is not high-pressure sales.

We purchased our popsicles and Eskimo pies and ate them slowly in the street, the way ice cream should be eaten on a hot summer day. As we stood there smiling and increasingly sticky, the truck driver raced away, practically leaving skid marks in his haste.

Later as I repositioned myself by the pool, I thought what a sad place the world has become if ice cream trucks don’t have time to slow down. So the kids and I came up with a new motto. In the spring we will remember to stop and smell the roses. But in the summer, no matter how busy we are, we will always pause to savor the ice cream.