True mom confession: I have never bought my kids ice cream from the ice cream man.
Before you pass judgment and think I am some sort of frozen treat Nazi or have banned my children from eating junk food, that’s simply not the case. I may or may not have eaten Blue Bunny banana split ice cream straight from the carton the other night and I let Miss A eat cheese puffs for dessert until her fingers were stained nuclear orange.
It’s just the ice cream man, our ice cream man, has horrific timing. He always drives by blaring his annoying cheerful ice cream man van music just as we are sitting down for dinner, and I have a difficult enough time achieving dinnertime Zen, thank you very much (shakes fist in the air). Either that or he cruises through our subdivision when literally the only money I have on me is 72 sticky cents, usually with a pony tail holder thrown in for good measure, in the cup holder of my car. This is a guaranteed formula for a whine fest since I have to deny the girls ice cream. It’s gotten so bad that I’ve actually shut our front door if I so much as hear the cheerful carnival type music in the distance, not that our front door and storm door really seal out the noise that much. Plus there’s something in me that just can’t quite fork over a couple of dollars for an orange push up out on our front lawn when I can turn around, walk into my house, open the freezer, and raid an entire box that cost less.
To make matters worse, the ice cream man has gotten fairly aggressive in his marketing techniques. The hubby bought Miss C ice cream from the ice cream man earlier this year and he handed the hubby his business card along with his change. It’s now posted on our refrigerator.
That’s right. I can have ice cream man on demand!
I think I’ll stay strong, and cheap, and buy them buy the boxload.