Our ice-cream man plays Fur Elise by Beethoven.
Do do do do dun do do…
I’m reminded of a movie involving a turf war between rival ice cream companies. For the life of me, I can’t remember what this movie is and I can’t seem to find it at the IMDb.
“Cheerio, Folks!”
I’m not certain a chain lock would work. I’m envisioning the scene. The ice cream man is somewhere w/in a 2 mile radius. Child’s ears perk up (child hearing note: children’s ears, medically speaking, are similar to a seive. They screen out unwanted, unnecessary noises, such as mom’s voice, honking horns and the like, to allow them that radar like intensity to filter in things like the ice cream man or words such as ‘well, we won’t tell her yet, but for her birthday, we’re gonna go to Chuck E. Cheese’).
Now, currently, she gives that warning yelp and is out the door. If there was a chain lock on it, this would stall her for the 3.4 seconds necessary to drag a chair over and deal with it. I know this. I’m a mom.
Nope, the only solutions are : full time head phones on the child. advantages/disadvantages to that one or some discrete work on the ice cream man truck.
(parenthetically, -see, note the parentheses- my SO when he was a child dreamed of his adult job: An astronaught in the winter and an Ice Cream guy in the summer)
The only time I ever had an ice cream man in my area was when i lived in Germany (good old Area 34-Kippenheimweiler). The guy would come along in either an orange or green VW hippy-mobile plastered from front to back with stickers of ice cream cones, ringing a regular brass bell (ding-ding, ding-ding, ding-ding). We used to call him “diggy-diggy” for the bell noise. So we’d hear the bells when he was in front of buildings 15-17, then he’d come down in front of 13-14, where we lived, and by then we would have searched through out piggy banks or coin jars and found enough change to pay for an ice cream cone (1DM for one scoop, 1.50DM for 2), run down the stairs and he’d be parked right in front of the doors. He had the best flavours too - bubble gum and mint chocolate chip, and really good, quality ice cream to boot. He would then move on and serve the rest of the Canadian Area, and by the time he got the the last buildings, we could have finished our ice cream and gone across the park for more 
.
God how that memory just made me miss Germany so much more than I already do! I wanna go back!!! 
Alas, I live in a gated community. No ice cream man. not even when I was a little kid. I never had the oppurtunity to run naked in the street.
The other day my wife and I heard faint musical notes coming in the open window, drifting forlornly on the breeze.
“Ghost Ice Cream Man,” she said. Hee.
My ice cream man plays the Entertainer, and has a small, beat up truck that used to be white. It says “Dave’s Tropical Ice Cream” in hand-applied letters. We don’t visit him much anymore since we got an ice cream maker and can make chocolate banana toffee coffee peppermint weasel swirl any time we want. Still, it’s occasionally tempting. I still think “IceCreamManIceCreamMan!” when I hear him drive by. And I live on a dead end street, so I get two chances at his wares.
Would that be made with real weasels?
hypergirl said:
What’s stopping you now?
That would be “Comfort and Joy”
Keith
I also have an Icecream Man that comes around where I live, but shamefully, it’s not the little kids who live on the street who run outside screaming “ICECREAM MAAAAAAN!”
…it’s my dad.
Yes, my dad gets extremely excited when he hears the bells ringing of the approaching Icecream Man. “Quick quick! Icecream Man! Money, money!” he shouts, in a neanderthalic-type manner. “What flavour??” he asks. “Erm, whatever” says I.
So out he runs, onto the street, buys his icecream, and comes back inside looking very proud.
We are not related. He’s just…um…my dad. Yeah.
Dave: Thanks. We do now have an eye lock on the door. Been there for several months, in fact, since that heart-stopping day when both of my children got out of the house. On the particular day when she ran out naked to catch the ice cream man, though, it wasn’t locked. Because I was right there. I mean, I was right there. Changing the boy’s diaper (on the floor in the living room) and the girl had been sitting on the couch watching cartoons. Until HE came along. She flew right past me. Hurdled me like she was OJ Simpson and I was an airport bench.
We had a loooooooong talk about that, and how not-good it was. Now, I try very hard to make sure I get the ice cream man to stop right in front of my house, so that way, she can see me from the front door. Not because she’s scared to see me walk out the front door, mind you. But because if she doesn’t know that I am, in fact, outside purchasing ice cream for her, she gets really honked. She’s got to be able to see the transaction. Wonky little kid.
Oh, and where can I get some of that ice cream with the weasels in it? Sounds scrumpdillyicious! 
Aha! No wonder I couldn’t find it, the IMDb plot summary was written by someone who doesn’t know “ice cream” is two words.
Hey, Persephone, sounds like you’re a DQ fan. Remember when the Peanut Buster Parfait was just a dollar?