Family piling into the car because the local Dairy Queen is selling Dilly Bars at half price, and it is time to hit the drive-thru on a summer afternoon. They are dipped fresh, and for an extra quarter they will double-dip for you.
Butterscotch for me!
What is your childhood delight?
Beatle Cones from the ice cream truck.
Please elaborate!
They were popular back then 
and it was a regular cone with candy eyes and probably choco jimmies for hair.
Changing out the empty gallon A&W root beer jug for a fresh one.
Christmas lights.
I have some serious issues with organized religion (esp. Christianity as it often manifests in this country today). I’ve worked retail/customer service far, far too long to have even minimal tolerance for the moldy-oldies Xmas carols, and nothing produced in the subsequent decades is any improvement. Finally, the performative circus that is the gift-giving nonsensery featured in many families and other circles can be exhausting, not to mention financially debilitating.
… but I’ll never tire of seeing the different types of lights at night. 
Ruler-straight all-white, every bulb facing the same way, outlining the eaves and doorframe? Nice job, Mr. OCD.
Riot of colors, including a blend of old-skool incandescent and newer LED so the “white” lights don’t even match each other? You do you, boo.
Red-bow-trimmed garlands wrapped around the entrance columns? Ostentatious, but hey, you paid for it.
Single straggly string with a couple burnt-out bulbs thrown randomly over a shrub? Bless your heart, sweetie, you tried.
But that’s one of my favorite Christmas childhood memories. Dad driving, Mom “navigating” and me in the back seat with a candy cane, oooh-ing over the displays.
Root beer floats from the A&W hamburger joint.
Gingerbread & pudding. Soft, spiced gingerbread served warm, with Bird’s custard generously poured over the top. Best. Dessert. Ever.
DQ’s Peanut Buster Parfait. Way more than a buck fifty these days and they appear to have shrunk.
ETA: our tradition for New Year’s Eve was root beer floats for everyone, served in repurposed Peanut Buster containers.
It is 1973, “Ballroom Blitz” hits Spokane’s KJRB…And I knew I was heading out of town come graduation and never looking back. That song brought a joy to my heart I had never felt before.
Getting a stupid crappy toy at the dentist.
Getting a crappy gift in classroom exchanges.
Going to dance rehearsals with new pointe shoes.(I was always sorry later).
My birthday. The, once a year, chance to eat ALL the sweets I wanted. Often sorry later, as well.
1/2 penny sweeties (candy for Americans) from the village shop, or even on the rare occasion I was flushed (by saving up my pocket money or an endowment by a grandparent ) be able to afford the classy high end sweets that were kept in glass jars and sold by the quarter pound.
There was a Mexican restaurant the family went to regularly whose name I can’t recall, assuming it even still exists. Their enchiladas had this sauce that I just loved and makes me hungry to this day just thinking about it. Mmmmm.
My father worked as a car mechanic among other things, and he used to let me take apart and put together old carburetors as a sort of toy. Oil and gasoline are nostalgic scents for me.
Visiting the Painted Desert on vacation. The place just looked unreal, the name is a fitting one.
Rolling around in the fresh-cut grass clippings added to the compost heap my father kept in our backyard, with the little shaven blades working their way down into our trousers. We quickly learned to empty them out before heading into the house where our mother awaited, else there would be hell to pay.
The first ripe June strawberries harvested warm off the plant. Oh, man, those were good! (Those are still a delight!)
Flying over dusty hillocks in vacant paddocks on our bikes, pretending we were riding horses and jumping over streams.
Picnics with these silly cookies, I don’t even remember what they were called, but they were round and flat and had a hole in the middle that was the perfect size to stick your finger through and pretend it was a dancing ballerina in a cookie tutu.
The moon over the abandoned lot across the street is full and bright, the grass is warm, and the night is long.
Lie down and let the mind wander until, later that night, you are called to bed. It is early summer and you just might do the same thing tomorrow…but who plans that far ahead, right?
Climbing trees.
A cup of hot cocoa along with a hot greasy scone after an afternoon of ice skating at the local rink. I must have heard the song, “Hey, Jude,” ten thousand times there and can now never hear it without fondly remembering those times.
Catching lightning bugs.
Running through sprinklers.
Using sparklers!
I’ll go with the 1960s version of Atomic Fireballs, the “red hot” jawbreaker candy. I used to get them at Woolworths in San Diego, thinking I was cool for getting such a hot candy.
Burning leaves in the fall. That smell takes me back.
