Wilzie and I were sitting on our front deck, just having returned home from a new mexican restaurant, and he was tapping and scrolling away on his brand, spanking new iPad*.
*When Wilzie decided that he was going to start writing a blog, I told him that he would not be usurping my MacBook, and that if he didn’t want to be stuck in the basement on our home PC, he would have to get his own wireless device. He decided on the iPad.
I watched him tap the screen, scroll, tap again. Then he pulls out the wireless keyboard, types a couple of words, taps the screen, scrolls, taps, types and taps again.
In between all of this tapping and scrolling he is chewing his fingernails.
“Quit chewing your fingers and write.” I tell him sternly
He taps and scrolls a couple more times, then sticks his fingers in his mouth again.
“Quit chewing your fingers and WRITE!” I point at the screen.
He sighs heavily as he pulls his fingers out of his mouth.
He stares glumly at the screen and gives it a half-hearted tap.
“I don’t know how you can write on that thing,” I tell him. “When I was playing with it the other day, it drove me crazy.”
I was about to continue lecturing him about how my MacBook was 100x better than his silly, ole iPad when I heard a magical noise tinkling in the distance…
I lift my head and turn my ears to the sound. Wilzie sighs again and I wave my hand at him to shush…
Could it be…?
It was definitely the tinny music of an approaching ice cream truck!
We had been working hard all day, and I thought relaxing on the deck with a beer was what I needed, but I was wrong.
I NEEDED ICE CREAM!
Then I was remembered those days when I was a kid and would run into the house and beg for money to get a popsicle whenever I heard that happy tune. And by the time I convinced my Mom that I couldn’t possibly survive with the Freezies we already had in the ice box, but that I needed something from the Popsicle Man, I would go racing out of the house, dollar bills in hand, only to find that the truck had already passed us by. So I was left to run my chubby ass down the street, chasing after the slow-moving truck, waving my money in the air and calling out to the “Poppy-Co Man” to wait. Please, just wait up!
As I set my book aside to run into the house to grab my wallet, I thought about those younger days.
I thought about the excitement of hearing that tinkly tune, the exhilaration of chasing him down the street, and the happiness of finally getting to enjoy the cool snack.
And then I thought it all seemed like far too much effort, and I went to the fridge and got a Fudgsicle out of the freezer.