motherhood

A Letter To The Ice Cream Man:

Dear Mr. Ice Cream Man.

Why must you park your truck with all its precious goodies; popsicles, frozen lemonade, novelties shaped like Spiderman, RIGHT in front of the T-ball field in the MIDDLE of their game? It makes no sense. Of all the fields to park in front of you chose the field with 4 and 5 year olds. To me, you’re not wonderful you’re just a jack-ass. All these little kids are trying to learn the game of baseball at an age that concentration on one task is a miracle. You sit there in your white truck taunting those poor children. Mid-fielders jumping up and down, pointing. Batters with their faces pressed up to the fence. It’s just unfair and cruel. If a parent buys a spectating sibling a treat while they watch the game…the sibling on the field plops their butt in the dirty crying. Better yet, the mom like me trying to contain the three-year old from running into the parking lot as he throws a full-blown temper tantrum because he doesn’t understand that he has to wait till the end of the game. Park at one of the other fields. The fields where the older kids already know the game and have grown out of the “tantrum” phase. You’re mean.

Regards,

One pissed off mom

9 thoughts on “A Letter To The Ice Cream Man:

  1. I feel your pain! I had to ask one to leave a parking lot b/c he was talking directly over his microphone to the small kids (my small one was 3) that were playing on the playground. It was 9:30 a.m., and all the little kids in the playground were siblings of older kids playing baseball. I understand that they have to make a living, but they need to use better timing. It is extremely annoying – they’re there all the time!

  2. A couple of years ago I honestly was about to go buy myself a gun (okay, a pellet gun, but that in itself is pretty wild behavior for this rather pacifist soul) and TAKE OUT the ice cream man who drove up and down and up and down and up and down our street – directly outside my children’s wide-open bedroom windows – at BEDTIME. Every single night. The ENTIRE summer. Just wanted to let you know that I feel your pain. Also, I just realized I might have Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder… Anyway, I will hate the Ice Cream Man with you. With a vengeance!

  3. Oh my! Yes we loathe the ice cream truck at our house. Our kids beg. And he comes around in the middle of dinner, after dinner, before dinner, etc. Just drives in and out of our neighborhood. The ice cream is ridiculously frozen hard, the kids end up throwing half of it away because they can’t eat it. And STILL they beg for it because it’s sooooo pretty and colorful.

  4. I remember this when I was little too. We could hear the music coming down the street at 215 and we had fifteen minutes of class yet. I’m sure that teacher would sign your letter (and then some!)!!!

  5. I guess I will stop complaining about our Little League fields, where the concession stand charges $2 for a gatorade or a soda! It’s so overpriced I easily blow through $20 a night. We finally had to start packing pop-corn because I realized I had wasted nearly a hundred dollars on nacho’s and pickle licks! What was I thinking????????

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