My kids are scared of the ice cream truck...

On one of my walking routes ( I have many) there is a stunning apricot tree. It struck me, when I realized what it was, that I had never really stopped to think about what apricots grew on.

(Hush, don't laugh at me. Daniel has already filled the point and laugh quota, thankyouverymuch.)

Apparently it's a tree, and a very beautiful tree at that. I was in awe the first time I saw it. The branches were heavy with the fruit, and the color of the vibrant green leaves against the soft gold of the apricots themselves, was a stunning contrast.

As the kids and I passed the tree this morning they asked if I would pick them an apricot. I told them we had to ask the owners for permission. Up to the door I went and rang the doorbell. A sweet woman answered, and when I asked if I could pick an apricot for my children, she was more than generous with her consent. She offered us a plastic bag to fill with the fruit, and said we could come back anytime to pick more.
It wasn't a surprise to me, this woman's kindness. The people down here are truly kind and with big hearts.

Moving on to something very shocking and not at all related....

My children are scared of the ice cream truck.

I know. They are very strange.

Cute, but strange.

This particular ice cream truck started coming around the neighborhood shortly after we moved into our house. Around and around she goes, the same annoying tune blasting over and over and over again until I feel as though my ears will never have peace again.

Right at the beginning I explained to the kids that we choose not to eat that type of ice cream - it has the sugar in it we don't eat. I told them that they should stay close to the house when the ice cream lady comes down our street, and to not wave or run down by the truck. I simply didn't want them to waste the woman's time.

Something got lost in the translation. Something vital.

Now, every time the ice cream truck comes my children run screaming into the house.

"The ice cream truck is cooooming, Mama!" They scream this at the top of their lungs.

Today I found Eve hiding in the corner, and when I asked her why, she answered that she heard the ice cream music.

Oy-vey!... Very strange, very strange indeed.

Might I add, an ancient yellow bus with a magnet of a few different styles of ice cream slapped on the side, is a very poor excuse for an ice cream truck.

But, that's neither here nor there.
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