Every day this week, right at 4pm, like clockwork, the ice-cream truck pulls up outside the community centre where my two oldest kids are attending summer camp. Every day at 4pm I have to come up with some excuse why we’re not stopping at the ice-cream truck. So Thursday night I agreed that on Friday, the last day of the kids first week of camp, we would make an ice-cream truck stop after camp.
Friday morning arrives. I wake my son up, all excited because he was going swimming with his camp today. And the first thing out of his mouth: We’re going to the ice-cream truck today.
My son’s camp finishes thirty minutes before my daughter’s so we have to wait. There’s no way I’m taking only 1 of my kids for ice-cream. I’d never hear the end of it. Thirty minutes passes and no big kid camp. Forty-five minutes, still no kids. Finally almost sixty minutes later my daughter’s camp arrives. We rush out and to great dismay the ice-cream truck has left.
My kids are devistated. And of course this is my fault. My son whines that I should have bought him ice-cream when his camp ended and the truck was here. My daughter whines that I should have bought her ice-cream earlier and saved it for her (yeah, ice-cream, in the sun, for sixty minutes!). Walking home with three very unhappy kids, we see a welcoming sign: 7-Eleven!
So I offer my kids a choice of ice-cream from the freezer in the convenience store (now I know why they’re called convenience stores).
It may not be soft serve swirly ice-cream with sprinkles on top, but my kids seemed just as content with the store bought variety. And next time I won’t promise the ice-cream truck unless I’m standing in front of it, money in hand, ready to buy.