Cream Truck

We’ve been teaching G to read for a while now. (when I say “We”, I mean Jared). So, he started this chart where she gets a star for every book that she reads on her own and after she reached 12, she got to pick a reward.
*Flash-back* to about 6 weeks ago when the “Cream Truck” (aka: ice cream truck) started driving through our neighborhood on daily basis calling to the kids by blasting “The Entertainer” from it’s speakers. I made it very clear that they would never get any ice cream from the Cream Truck. I wasn’t trying to be mean, but you see, J or I never got ice cream from the ice cream man growing up and we were simply trying to uphold a long-standing family tradition. My children would stare out the window longingly, watching the Cream truck stop for other kids all the while knowing that that ice cream would never be theirs.
*Flash-forward* to G’s star chart. The reward that she picked for reading was, you guessed it, ice cream from the Cream Truck. Neither my cheapness or my respect for a fine family tradition could justify telling her no after she had done such hard work getting those books read on her own.
So the other day, when we heard “The Entertainer” in the distance, G froze and then starting shrieking. She continued the shrieking until the ice cream man handed her the power-puff girls popsicle that she picked out.


Here she is (and her best friend, and Bubba) watching the Cream Truck come down the street toward our house. What you didn’t see, was me, in all of the excitement, running down our front yard (it is on a bit of a decline) to snap a quick picture…Tripping, Falling, and Rolling down the front yard. The Ice cream man totally saw me. He didn’t say anything though. I think it helped that as he was pulling up to the curb in front our house, he hit the speed limit sign. We just didn’t make eye contact during the transaction. It worked for us.